The Romancer Greatfather Winter
by pooktales
Summary: The sequel to The Romancer Onyxbane with a holiday twist: The characters we know and love get sucked into the secret santa from hell! Will a little holiday misery unravel hard won love and friendships?
1. Be glad no one puts on the red underwear

**The Romancer Greatfather Winter**

(Disclaimer: This story is based upon a game called World of Warcraft. Therefore, I do not claim any rights to their story, or game.)

**Episode One:**

Like any good Kaldorei rogue, Alessandre knew how to blend into the Stormwind crowds. There were more people out on the street than usual, especially in the Trade District. Adventurers of all makes and types ran in and out of the Auction House, the armories, the wineries, all in search of the perfect Winter's Veil gifts. Alessandre tried not to be too startled by this year's crop of patrons. Beyond being Kaldorei, and more accustomed to the quiet of Kalimdor's dark forests, Alessandre never remembered the holiday being so popular, and he'd lived a very long life.

"Ishnu'allah. Syr dell idrielle vindria Gallina?" it took Alessandre a while to process the question directed at him. Firstly, the question was in Darnassian, and secondly, he had to remember whether or not he was working under cover today.

Then, Alessandre sized up the speaker, saw that he and his friends were druids and decided instantly that he would enjoy being a jerk. He hated druids.

"What?" he asked rudely in Common and began to take out his pipe.

Long purple ears bobbed curiously as the three Night Elves decked out in animal skins and armor that imitated tree branches looked at each other in confusion.

"Ini, dial deb nur'ah Darnassus." Alessander answered slyly. Yes, he spoke Darnassian. But then, Alessandre made a show of raising the pipe to his lips and striking… once, twice, three times, the small bit of flint and tinder he always carried in his bag. Then, he stuffed the pipe and lit it. The three druids recoiled in horror as they watched what appeared to be a tree burning in Alessandre's mouth.

"Ay Elune!"

"Speak Common. Do you think anyone here will take you seriously if you go about speaking our tongue? And just how do you expect to haggle with merchants at the Gallina Winery if they can't understand you. That is where you're headed isn't it?"

The first druid frowned, and consulted his companions briefly. Then, he said. "Sir, that is disgusting, and offensive to Elune. Please put that fire out."

Alessandre took a long drag from his pipe and then blew it in the other man's face. "It's a free city… well since they ran the orcs out anyways. If you want my help finding what you need, then you have to accept that I smoke like a dwarf. In fact, I'd watch my coinpurse too. How much do you have there? Seventy gold? The size of your purse seems to be about seventy gold."

Another quick consultation with his friends, and Alessandre waited for the hasty translation to finally register with his kinsmen.

"How dare you!"

"How dare you. This is a merry holiday season, and you have the audacity to ask an upstanding rogue like myself for help? I'm insulted that you did not at least eye me with suspicion, or hide your gold. I could be hard at work for all you know, fleecing the jingling crowds. Beyond that, you did not wish me a happy Winter's Veil."

"We will ask directions of someone else." The druid grunted and ushered his friends away.

Alessandre just smiled at the affront. He enjoyed a few more puffs from his pipe before strutting off.

The whole city was going crazy. He'd never taken Winter's Veil so seriously, but if even the humble druids were getting excited about the gift giving, didn't that mean he'd finally be pegged as ungrateful if he didn't pay his dues this year?

"No matter your station, no matter your class or race, someone is expecting a gift from you this year!" a merchant came out on her doorstep and began to call to the crowd. It was like the perfect answer to Alessandre's question. "Don't wait until the final moment and be left out. The season will be soon ending!"

Should he buy a gift for someone? And if so, whom? Alessandre wondered as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. He had been on his way to Cathedral Square, to spy on his unwitting charge Opalbane. He'd have to keep watch for a few more days, at least, to gauge the priestess' situation before making contact with her. He liked to be informed when he got into new situations. But would a gift for the unsuspecting Priestess Opalbane help endear her to him? It could help…

"Many ladies like a good dress, or perhaps a tuxedo for your gentleman friend—"

"You say you sell dresses?" Alessandre came up and interrupted the shouting woman.

She flinched when she saw him. Alessandre tried not to make a big deal out of her reaction. He got that kind of attention from women all the time, and making her feel self conscious about it would only make the encounter more embarrassing for him. He knew this from experience. "Uh… yes. What's your name sir?"

Now she definitely did not need to know his name to sell him something. "Farindrell." Alessandre lied smoothly. Why give out his real name if it wasn't important?

"Oh, yes, Mister Farindrell, we sell dresses. You have a lady friend in mind?"

Furthermore, this woman did not need to know if he was taken to sell him something. Alessandre sighed heavily. "I'm not sure yet. But I do need to impress her. Show me what you have."

The human woman curtsied graciously and showed him into the store. They walked past rows of dresses, embroidered gloves, hats… all things that Alessandre could care less about. The last Winter's Veil he'd been excited about was more than twenty years ago, and he was nothing like himself at the time. More of an innocent boy who would cry if someone blew pipe smoke in his face the way Alessandre had done to those druids hours ago. Now, he was a grown man with priorities, and one of them was not wasting time chatting up a patron for a date.

"Excuse me, miss." Alessandre interrupted the woman abruptly when she flew into a tangent about how his complexion complemented a dark silk scarf she was holding. "I don't see anything here worth my time. Thanks all the same—"

"No, don't go! I… would you like to…"

Alessandre thought he would die from boredom while she worked up the courage to ask him out.

"Well, maybe you don't want a dress for your lady friend." She quickly changed the subject. "Perhaps… well we have some men's underthings here too."

Alessandre balked at that bald attempt. "You've got to be kidding me, right?"

"Oh no, I am quite serious. Actually, we don't normally sell these kinds of things, except that we got an irresistible offer from a local artisan. Her name is Willypearl."

Alessandre thought that name sounded familiar, but just to be sure, "Let's see what you have from this Willypearl."

The woman blushed a great deal and led Alessandre to a small room in the back. She held back the curtain in the doorway, and the closet-sized space filled with light. Alessandre lost his composure instantly when he saw what Willypearl had made.

"This," the shopkeeper said, and pulled one of the water silk gowns off a hanger, "Is a new kind of lingerie. I've never seen a make like this before. Let me give you an idea," she said, and held it up against herself. Alessandre tried to keep himself in check. Why would a woman, especially one like the Willypearl he'd read about make something with so many holes…in so many places?

"Perhaps you don't like it?" the shopkeeper worried, and brought out another. "This is an evening dress—"

"It is not!" Alessandre argued with the woman, but he should have known better.

The woman only smiled sweetly and said, "Indeed, it is. I don't normally offer, but I could demonstrate for you if—"

"No thank you." Alessandre said hurriedly. The black dress had slits cut up the sides that were so huge the woman would appear naked if glimpsed in profile.

"Excuse me, I forgot that I said she made things for men too. Here they are." And then the woman reached back behind the rows of dresses and retrieved a box. It looked innocent enough, but then she opened it…

"No man, in his right mind would ever wear something like that. Beyond looking completely impractical, it is no doubt uncomfortable, and just…"

"Hard to imagine yourself in it? Well, Miss Willypearl said that she measured it for a male Night Elf. At the time, she had someone special in mind, but no longer. She sold these things to us because she did not need them anymore, and wanted some kind of compensation."

Alessandre's stomach lurched on hearing that. He'd heard of women having fetishes for male Night Elves, but never to this extreme.

"I think I've seen enough."

"Are you sure? I can guarantee you that no sane woman could ever turn down a man who wore this garment." Alessandre seriously doubted her use of the word 'garment.' Something that left so much of the male areas exposed and unsupported could hardly be classified as a garment. "In fact, I've shown many men this particular item, but none were brave enough to buy it. However, all the women who saw it snatched it right from my palm, and paid whatever I asked. This is the last one you know."

Alessandre looked from the woman to the daring lava red underwear, and slowly shook his head.

"Won't you… at least try it on? For me?"

That was when Alessandre had enough.

"No thank you. I think I'm done here." And his mane of midnight blue hair whipped around as he turned to leave.

"But sir—"

"This was a terrible mistake. I'm not cut out for Winter's Veil shopping, I—"

"Please sir!" the woman shouted, and held the flimsy underwear up over her head, as if she were a daring Field Marshall waving the flag of the Alliance on the snowy fields of Arathi for all the Horde to see. "Be inspired! Don't give up on the spirit of Winter's Veil, or Greatfather Winter! If there was ever a woman that you loved, a woman that you needed… If there was ever a wish deep in your heart, a fantasy that you needed fulfilled, a love that was lost or broken… I assure you that this is the key! You can have all that you seek."

Alessandre whirled around at the plain brunette shopkeeper and raised a shocked eyebrow. His pipe hung from the side of his mouth. "Just who are you to make such a claim? Creative underthings cannot bring a woman back to life, can they? They can't make you the man you were when you were innocent to the harshness of the world, when you would have done anything in your power to save her—"then Alessandre remembered himself. "Underwear just can't do that, I'm sorry." He finished up quickly.

"Oh, yes it can." The woman insisted, a wild look in her eye as she closed the distance between them. "The maker of this underwear, Willypearl, told me her story. She could have had this secret lover of hers, but on her date, she chose to use one of the dresses I showed you, not this. The underwear she made for him was her secret weapon, and in failing to use it, she lost that man. I, myself, took a pair home to my Reginald—"

"Good grief. I don't think I want to hear—"

"And I feel like a school girl again!" the woman hugged the underwear to her chest.

Alessander considered stealthing right then and there to get out of the store, when a thought came to him.

"You say… this garment can drive any woman, or man wild?"

"Oh yes. He has only but to put it on—"

"It would even… break a bond between people? For example, let's say this Willypearl was pursuing a man that already belonged to someone else…"

The woman was nodding instantly. "Oh yes, and that was her situation exactly. But, she lacked the courage."

Alessandre could think of only one woman in his life so deserving of that kind of pain. If only he played his card right… "I'll take it. Oh, and you see that tag there, with the artisan's name on it? Leave it in." and then Alessandre the rogue smiled wickedly.

A few days later in Ashenvale…

Onyxbane had found a little cottage for Wisthera and himself near Astranaar. It was much further from Darkshore than he would have liked, but at least this close to the base, it was safe from the Horde, and there were far too many Horde about in the sacred forests of Ashenvale these days.

This morning, his love was nowhere to be found. So, Onyxbane decided he would simply start the morning without Wisthera. He got dressed and headed out to the mailbox in Astranaar. When he got there, he had to wait a long time for his turn. A big crowd of people was gathered around the poor little mailbox, and each person was making a big deal out of the Winter's Veil presents they'd received.

"Why is everyone announcing what they got?" Onyxbane asked a young male Night Elf on his right. He looked just as impatient as Onyxbane felt.

"Well, it's a new thing they started in Ironforge. I guess it's catching on. This year, people have started sending presents to their friends without return addresses. A really good friend can guess who the gift is from right away. If not, well, they say those two people don't really belong in a relationship."

"That doesn't make any sense. Why would someone give a gift in secret? And, how can one little suspicious present unravel months of effort you put into building something with another person?"

The other Night Elf shrugged. "Don't ask me. I think it's stupid. But people will think you are a monster or something if you don't figure out who gave the gift right away. Better to just make a big deal over it here, than to have the whole town talking about you later."

This worried Onyxbane. He and Wisthera had barely found a place to work, let alone a place to live and fit in with the local population. Wisthera had a bad reputation as a con artist and rogue, and she'd narrowly escaped her enemies back in Stormwind. Onyxbane had a far better reputation, and it was only his good word that kept them both fed and housed these days.

When it was his turn, Onyxbane found a package addressed to him. He considered saying nothing at all, or opening it at home. But all the other Kaldorei around him stared, expectantly, and he even thought he saw a stalwart Sentinel look up from under her helmet. He had to do this, for Wisthera and himself.

Onyxbane figured it was probably something harmless from one of his old friends anyway…

Until he opened it. "What is that?" a woman nearby demanded. Onyxbane wasn't exactly sure.

"I don't know. It's a strange little red thing isn't it? Maybe it's a handkerchief?"

"No it's not. It looks like it goes here," the female Kaldorei took it from him and tried to hold it over Onyxbane's waist. No, lower I think—"

A roar of girlish screams rose up from around the mailbox and Onyxbane panicked.

"Oh man! Do you know who that's from?" the young male Night Elf asked him. "Some woman must really love you!" he started to buckle with laughter.

Onyxbane was blushing a great deal, and started to smile as he held up the underwear. He held it above the roaring crowd, in the moonlight. How nice of Wisthera, to show the world just how much she cared for him—

"The tag says Willypearl!" Onyxbane yelped, and the crowd around the mailbox started screaming and congratulating Onyxbane on his rare gift. But Onyxbane stuffed the bright red underwear into his pocket and ran.

Back at his home, Wisthera was struggling with a secret gift of her own.

In the dim moonlight, she read the letter again, and again, but could not make much sense of it. "It's all smudged," she worried aloud to herself.

One line of the letter really stumped her:

_I've never stopped thinking about you, and after all these years I forgive you. Please accept this gift as a token of my passion._

Wisthera pulled the beautiful lace dress out of the box, and held it against herself. She'd tried it on in private some time ago. It didn't fit exactly. Actually, it fit perfectly, but it fit the old Wisthera, who'd spent a lot of time in taverns drinking thick mead and beer basted boar ribs in Thelsamar. Today's Wisthera had been running halfway across the world after a man she loved, sometimes braving days without food in the wilderness.

"Whoever had this made for me…knows me well. But by Elune, I can't figure out who! If Onyxbane sees this, he's going to kill me!" Wisthera folded the revealing dress back up and stuffed it in the box. "Not after betraying his sister… he'd never forgive me this if he ever found out.

She read the closing of the letter again, and struggled with the signature.

_Soon, we will be together again, and you will be a witness to all I have accomplished. My revenge will be complete against you, the reunion sweet, and you will stand before everyone, even Shadowstep, and have to bear the sight of my success. Do wear this dress on that day, for me, and I will know that you care for me._

But the signature… too washed out. Why had she insisted that all her mail be sent to Darkshore and the Great Sea? Was keeping her correspondence safe from the man she loved so important? Now, because she was being too careful, she would never know who plotted against her after all these years.

"Think Wisthera, think! Who would do this to you? Who would be so angry…" many male faces flashed in her mind. It surprised Wisthera how many there were. But, one, the most beautiful one she had ever seen, and the most recent, stayed with her.

"Alessandre." She said, and stared at the letter in horror.

"Who?" Onyxbane demanded as he came into their bedroom.

Wisthera looked up at Onyxbane, terrified. Maybe if she pretended she hadn't seen the dress… "What is that you have in your hand? A handkerchief?" Wisthera spied the wispy red thing Onyxbane had in a death grip.

"Oh, this? Aah…"

"That tag says, 'Willypearl.'" Wisthera snatched it from Onyxbane faster than he could react. She was a rogue, afterall. "Did she… why were you hiding this from me?"

"Who is that dress from, Wisthera? Are you hiding something from me?" anger heated Onyxbane's accusation.

The two lovers faced off in the winter moonlight, each fearful of what this Winter's Veil would mean for their fragile reconciliation.


	2. The cultists have a 12 step program

**The Romancer Greatfather Winter**

Episode Two:

Most days, Silithus felt like a barren wasteland, but today, the cultists assured, would feel different. Trapped in the apricot windstone, Zar'teaus needed to believe it. So far, the Twilight Hammer's efforts to help him recover had failed, and he felt terrible.

A muffled plunking on his glass house startled the disembodied entity, and he hurried to draw his wilting flesh back on.

"WHO DISTURBS THE GREAT GOD ZAR'TEAUS?"

"Master, it is just me, Adeiline. It seems you have some mail."

"Oh really?" Zar'teaus asked eagerly. It _was_ Winter's Veil after all. It could be from any number of his old friends and worshippers. But in all honesty, he really hoped it was from Opalbane. He needed it to be from her. Their thoughts were once as one, but recently, she'd been kidnapped from Silithus and he hadn't a chance to make her his high priestess.

"Yes, Lord Zar'teaus. I'll have the summoning robes on in sec, and we can go over the letter as your first activity for today." A few moments of loud chanting later, and Zar'teaus was filled with a white energy that shot through him and expelled him from the burnt orange crystal he called home.

"How invigorating that feels!" he smiled happily, which was hard because his jaw was falling apart.

Adeiline smiled back. She was Undead, and her own jaw looked in much worse condition. Zar'teaus strongly suspected that the director of this camp assigned Adeline as his caretaker just to make him feel better.

"Now, now," Adeiline drawled. Her Common was heavily accented with the gurgling of Gutterspeak, her first language. "What is the recitation? That is not the way to start your day, as the Director says." Then she formed what looked like a gentle smile, but for the holes in her rotted face was hard to decipher.

"I am an Old God. I am Powerful. I deserve to be Worshipped…"

"And?"

"And loved." Zar'teaus frowned.

"Very good, Zar'teaus. You are coming along your twelve steps to godhood nicely."

"I'd be done with this insidious program already if I'd been given my High Priestess! Where _is_ my Opalbane? I can't start up a following without her."

"Zart'eaus, we discussed this in your last session. The Twilight's Hammer cannot let you go back to being an Old God until you are fully recovered. You can't be fully recovered without at least one committed worshipper, and until we can find a suitable high priest for you—"

"But Opalbane was the one for me! I could feel it, Adeiline."

Adeiline reached up and patted Zar'teaus' smoky shoulder. His flesh had begun to rot a century ago, and getting a following was the only way to stop the decay. At least Adeiline and those like her had Lady Sylvanas to bring hope to their chaotic existence. Nowadays, Adeiline had the Twilight's Hammer to guide her. But, for old gods like Zar'teaus, being part of a mere cult would not do. He needed people to worship him, and fast, or the rest of his eternal life was going to be very pathetic and painful.

"And the Twilight's Hammer apologizes sincerely for your loss. We will simply have to find you another high priest if Opalbane is not returned."

Zar'teaus pouted. "Fine. Where's this letter you told me about?"

"If I give you the letter," Adeiline waggled her bony finger at Zar'teaus, "Do you promise to ingest all your prescribed fel capsules, and join the group for recitations this evening? The Director was very unhappy to hear that you were shirking your treatment."

Zar'teaus eyed the letter hungrily and finally sighed, giving in.

"Gooood." Adeiline purred, and handed him the letter. "Now, I'll leave you alone with your letter. Would you like a windstone closer to the sunlight this morning, or perhaps a demonic rune to decipher? I can also get you an encrypted Twilight Text if you wish to know what is going on in the world while you relax."

Zart'eaus only grunted. He was lost in his letter.

Adeiline said something further about the Twilight Hammer being happy to serve all Old Gods, no matter how distraught they were, as long as they were willing to admit they had a problem, because that was the first step, blah, blah, blah… Zar'teaus ignored the rest until Adeiline left.

"She does love me!" Zar'teaus cried out when the Undead woman finally hobbled away.

He reread the end of the letter,

…_I'm sorry that we quarreled. It matters little, because after all these years, I still enjoy the kisses we steal, the long naked nights up in the boughs of Teldrassil. Know that I am thinking of your beautiful body each time you wear this hat. Wear it when you need me, and I will make some excuse to get away._

_Ever your plaything,_

_Priestess xxx_

_p.s. of course I am not going to write my real name silly! We will be together soon._

What was left of Zar'teaus' heart leapt in his chest. "Adeiline! Adeiline! Come here, girl."

Ever dutiful, The stringy haired Undead hobbled back over at her master's beckoning and bowed her head.

"Please do me a favor. Fetch a rare bauble for Opalbane! She's sent me this fine purple hat and this letter. I knew she'd come back to me! She's hiding herself in Darnassus, I think. That is where the letter is from, the Temple of Elune. But, surely, you can see to it that she receives something from me, so that she might have hope?"

Adeiline sighed a hollow, tortured breath but finally gave in. "Alright. It goes against the codes, but it's not the first time I bent them for you, is it master? I'll see to it that something special is delivered to her. Shall I use the spy that is already in place there?"

"Certainly. Evenstar is responsible for getting this letter to me, I'm sure he can deliver mine in turn. Now, go quickly."

Adeiline skittered off to do her master's bidding. Zarteus hugged the tattered love letter to his melted breast and sighed happily.

_Later, in Rutheran Village nearDarnassus…_

The pale night elf nodded at the strange courier, and hurried off into the shadows to read the instructions:

_Evenstar,_

_I hope this letter reaches you well. Master Zar'teaus is pleased with the latest communication and wishes that you deliver this gift in kind to the priestess. Remember, do not reveal yourself as a Twilight Cultist. Only deliver the gift and leave quickly. Send any correspondence back here to Silithus immediately, as I believe the Master has come to look forward to her letters. I think they keep him in good spirits though he's failed to surpass his twelfth step for the one hundred and fifty seventh time now._

_Adeiline._

Evenstar slipped the letter into the breastpocket of his tattered vest, and sighed with relief. Spywork was never easily, especially now that Shadowstep had identified Evenstar and turned him into a double agent. Recently, he'd gotten his various communications mixed up and misdelivered a note from the Priestess Feathershine… or was it a note from Shadowstep to Feathershine? Or a note from the Priestess Opalbane in Stormwind… Evenstar got so confused sometimes. Well, this would be his chance to set things right. Evenstar reached into his vest pocket to retrieve the letter and package that the Master Zar'teaus intended for the priestess.

"Oh no…" Evenstar panicked as he rifled through all the papers in his pocket, "Which one is it?"

_A few days earlier, in Eastvale Logging Camp near Stormwind…_

Willypearl smoothed the fine fur cap with her fingertips as she re-read the letter from her friend:

_Dearest Willypearl,_

_I write this letter to express how much of a fool I've been. I cannot believe that I have wronged you so cruelly over the years. And it seems that even after things are settled, I managed to take the one thing from you that might have brought you some kind of solace: love. You tried to be my friend for years, and this is how I repay you? My heart is so heavy with guilt and grief, I could not bear to remain silent any longer. Please, accept this handmade gift as a token of my friendship. It would be so nice if there could be a truce between us._

_Please respond with your feelings on the matter. In the new tradition of Winter's Veil, I've not signed this letter, but I'm sure you know who cared so much to send it. She is the very Kaldorei who proved unworthy of your love in Silithus, and wishes to Elune that you show mercy._

_Always your friend._

"Are you truly reading, when there's so much work to do!" Willypearl's new mother in law, Barillabine Pontier hovered over the young mage's shoulder.

"Mom, do you mind?" Willypearl stuffed the letter into her apron. She had been mending her wedding dress, for about the thousandth time since her fiance's mother Barillabine first saw it. Once, it wasn't modern enough, then it wasn't conservative enough. Then, too white, too short, too long. Willypearl considered herself a nice person, and so wasn't used to such harsh treatment, but even she got the hint in the end. Barillabine and most of Elec's family for that matter, did not want her to wear the wedding dress at all. She didn't deserve to be a part of their family.

"Don't call me _Mom_," Barillabine complained. "We are not family yet, young lady."

Willypearl sighed, and picked up her needle and thread again.

"Who was that letter from anyway? Not that Night Elf I heard Elec swearing about? What was his name… Obsidian.. something—"

"It's Onyxbane! And that ain't your business. It's between me and your son!" Willypearl flushed a warm mahogany and bent over her work, as if she were too busy to carry on the conversation. Her future mother-in-law frowned at the girl's poor sentence structure and Willypearl was suddenly self conscious of her overpowering Westfall accent.

"Did you cheat on my Elec? Because if you did—"

"It's been settled! Anyways, the letter is not from Onyxbane, it's from his sister Opalbane. She was the very sweetest little thing and sent me a fur cap for Winter's Veil. Isn't it nice?"

Barillabine was actually distracted from her tirade for a moment as she examined the cap.

"It's too furry. Only a dwarf in freezing Khaz Modan would wear something so superfluous."

Willypearl groaned.

"You have such strange friends anyway. Isn't that Opalbane girl the one who got into trouble with the Archmage in Stormwind? How shameful. And the name itself is so ghastly. What kind of a parent names their child something so dreadful? Now, I'm grateful that the Night Elves joined the Alliance, but really, some of their outdated customs—"

"Her parents didn't name her that. When she was eight years old in Felwood, Opalbane's mother got dragged out of the house by demons and brutally murdered. Her father too. Opalbane named herself so as to take revenge for her pale skinned mother, and Onyxbane is named after his dark father."

Barillabine frowned during the brief awkward pause that followed, then quickly pointed out, "You missed a stitch." Which wasn't true, but Willypearl was so flustered by the overbearing woman that she did miss a stitch, almost on cue, and then her future mother-in-law snorted in laughter and left.

"Well, I wish some demons could come to this house and take care of somebody's mother—" Willypearl cursed as she pulled out the stitch. She reminded herself to send Opalbane something nice in return.

_Then a few days later in Ashenvale…_

"Willypearl made those for you? That… BITCH!" Wisthera exploded at Onyxbane, who looked around sheepishly for a hiding place, or better yet, the Reaper. "After I sent that nice hat I made, and called a truce…"

Onyxbane tried to comfort his raging girlfriend, but she pushed him away hard and he fell to the floor. "And you tried to hide it from me. This is really the last straw, Onyx," She towered over him fuming.


	3. Three rogues have BIG secrets

**The Romancer Greatfather Winter**

Episode Three:

"Wisthera, you're not going to pin this on me. Also, I still don't understand why you have no idea who gave you that dress." Onyxbane got to his feet and carefully pulled the black lace dress out of its box.

Wisthera did her best to keep up her mean face, but Onyxbane was right. Wisthera knew that she had no reason to be harsh with her boyfriend when she also seemed guilty of having an affair.

"It looks like we both have some explaining to do?" Wisthera smiled innocently.

Onyxbane did not respond to Wisthera's attempt at adorable blamelessness.

"How could you not know? I've done absolutely everything for you, traveled halfway across the world—"

"Onyxbane, before you go any further, please let me explain." Wisthera took her boyfriend's hand and led him to the bed where they sat down. Briefly, she considered lying about her history with Alessandre, but after one look into Onyxbane's eyes, Wisthera recalled everything they'd gone through together in an instant. First, she swindled his sister Opalbane out of gold for years, then seduced him while lying about her true identity, next she singlehandedly destroyed his relationship with a good friend and lover Willypearl, and finally almost handed Opalbane over to Shadowstep's greedy agents in Silithus. One more lie, even a little one really _could_ ruin everything. It was a miracle that this man knew the truth about Wisthera and still wanted to be with her.

"I will tell you who sent this. But… promise not to be mad? I didn't encourage his attention, I don't think," Wisthera worried. "But it was almost three months ago—"

"Three months ago! You were seeing someone while you were with me?" Onyxbane flared up. His white twin braids rose and fell with the angry heaving of his chest.

"Think, my love. We first met in the Searing Gorge, near Blackrock Mountain. I knew you were coming to take revenge on me for your sister… I had only a few days to figure out whether to keep running or face you. In the end, I decided to spend the night with you—"

"Wisthera, we've been through this already. We slept together the first night we met, and you lied to me about who you were for days after—but you were afraid and I understand why you felt you needed to. I'm not angry with you."

"Wait, you're missing something, Onyx." Wisthera hesitated, then pushed forward. "I was a different girl back then, and I guess that also means I thought all guys were different. I slept with you that night, thinking that you would be eager to leave the next morning. It was supposed to be an easy way to get rid of you, without any extra effort… you were supposed to be an arrogant prick—"

Onyxbane frowned. "All men are not like that. I, for one, stayed with you."

Then, Wisthera blushed. "Yeah, you did. You are so loving, Onyx. I never expected in a thousand lifetimes—" then she cleared her throat when Onyxbane frowned at Wisthera going off topic. "Well, I knew you were very special then. But, merely a few days earlier I had the exact opposite luck with Alessandre."

Onyxbane thought for a moment, processing this. "So you're saying that… this guy Alessandre rejected you before you even met me."

Before Wisthera could respond, Onyxbane broke out into rich laughter.

"It's not funny Onyx."

"Oh yes it is! You got rejected. I can just imagine how you reacted."

"I wasn't that bad. I only… found out he was working for King Magni Bronzebeard about something called the Maker's Terrace and the true origins of the dwarves and kind of… spread those secrets around."

"Wait…is _that_ why I keep hearing about a dungeon near to Thelsamar? When I went through there three months ago, the place was crawling with adventurers. I remember being really confused because I thought the only thing interesting in Loch Modan were the threshers in the Loch and the beer basted boar ribs."

Wisthera knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help stealing a smile at her handiwork.

"All those rumors about the dwarves being related to troggs, the scandal that's staggered the Explorer's League… is all because you leaked Alessandre's secrets?"

"Yes. I made it look like he couldn't keep his mouth shut."

Onyxbane couldn't look at Wisthera just then. "I'm afraid to ask--because you are really scaring me right now—but I think I'd better. What exactly did he do to you that was so wrong… that merited his reputation as a rogue being ruined?"

This time, Wisthera really blushed. "Well, my girlfriends and I were hanging out at the tavern in Thelsamar at the time, and there was this rumor about a gorgeous Kaldorei rogue…"

Onyxbane began to groan.

"Well, Myra was saying that this guy was great in bed, only it was really hard to convince him—"

"I don't think I want to hear how this ends,"

"I made them promise me that they wouldn't try anything on him until I got finished with this assignment I had, but they did it anyway."

"What did they do? Out with it."

"The four of them stealthed into his room one night, and… offered to please him all at once. They figured that alone, they had no chance, but maybe together this hunk wouldn't be able to say no."

"Ha! I bet he didn't."

Wisthera frowned darkly at Onyxbane's joke.

"I'm… right?"

"They left me out! I still can't believe they did that without me. There's a rumor going around among us Kaldorei rogues that the greatest lay in Azeroth is this guy named Alessandre—he's practically a legend--and the one chance I ever had was taken away from me by my own friends!" Wisthera flared.

"You _wanted_ to be a part of that disgusting orgy?" Onyxbane challenged her.

"Oh, don't you go judging me. I was different back then, and besides, if you were in his place you wouldn't think it was so horrible. You made a joke about it only a moment ago."

Onyxbane decided that he was not going to get into an argument with Wisthera over which one of them would seek out a foursome or not. Such indulgences did happen every once in a while with Night Elves, but never with that many people. Even for a male Kaldorei, being with that many women was a dream come true, and Onyxbane supposed it might be the same for a Kaldorei woman.

"Alright. I'll take your word for it. But that still doesn't make any sense. He didn't even know you existed. How could you be so mad at him?"

Wisthera pouted. "Because… I tried to come on to Alessandre later and he just gave me the brushoff. Even when I told him I was friends with those four women he slept with, and that I could convince them to do it again… he thought I was pathetic."

Onyxbane saw the hurt in his girlfriend's face and struggled with whether to comfort her or not. Finally, he settled on, "Wisthera. I hate to tell you this, but you have the biggest ego I've ever seen on a woman, or a man for that matter. This Alessandre chose four women over you, and you think it's personal… you think you had a good chance with him even though your friends took a huge risk just to tempt him. What made you think you could win against those odds?"

Wisthera gave Onyxbane a look so cold that he had a sudden impulse to jump off the bed to get away from her.

"I _am_ that good. Are you arguing just how sexy I am? Or do you wish to sleep outside with the orcs and trolls that are visiting Ashenvale of late?"

"No ma'am." Onyxbane answered quickly. As a warrior, he was used to taking orders, and had to restrain the urge to salute. Though she did not look like she was going to welcome it at all, Onyxbane leaned in and gave his girlfriend a kiss.

"Wisthera, I'm sorry about what happened between you and Alessandre—I guess--but why bring it up now?"

"Because… I'm afraid this dress is from him. I don't have feelings for him at all, though he might still be the one that got away… but I want you Onyx, I really want you above anyone else. I'm just afraid that he's not over me yet. He's got this strange revenge-love-hate obsession over me. I don't fully understand why, but I guess I _do_ have that kind of effect on men—"

"Wisthera!" Onyxbane got to his feet immediately and picked up the letter that had come with the dress. "Alessandre did _not_ write this letter. I know for a fact."

"How can you possibly know that, and just what are you accusing me of? And, I'm not letting you off the hook about those undies Willypearl made for you. Don't change the subject."

Onyxbane sighed deeply. "I don't know who sent these crazy things to me. They didn't even come with a letter."

"No letter? That's not like Willypearl at all." Wisthera thought aloud.

"Well, she's not that educated—"

"If she would dare send a gift so obvious, through the mail where I might see it, she would send a letter too. I don't care how dumb she is." Wisthera snatched the underwear from Onyxbane and held it up in the moonlight.

"And so… I'm supposed to believe that you have two men pining after you all these years, sending you strange gifts on Winter's Veil? You are more arrogant than I could have ever imagined." Onyxbane scowled.

Wisthera shrugged and threw the underwear in Onyxbane's face. "You can wear those, you know, but you'll be enjoying them all by yourself. I'm not speaking to you."

Onyxbane grumbled.

_That same day in Darnassus…_

Priestess Feathershine waited for the nosy Sentinels to leave, and then coyly pushed her way around the worktable into Master Rogue Shadowstep's lap.

"What _are_ you doing?" Shadowstep frowned and tried to work around the elegant woman who wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Don't play hard to get with me." Priestess Feathershine purred and tossed an emerald green lock over her rose colored shoulder. Then she kissed his neck.

Shadowstep rifled through the stack of papers on his desk, but found getting back to work impossible with this distraction.

"Why don't you wear your hat?" Priestess Feathershine nagged.

"I don't wear hats. We've been together for seventy years, and you never noticed?"

Feathershine pushed angrily at Shadowstep's shoulder. His long ivy green ponytail was swept up high, not a strand of hair was out of place. With his red skin and the slight edge of age in his face, it made him look like a man who always meant business. Since the destruction of the World Tree, many Night Elves had started to age pretty poorly, but that Shadowstep had begun to show his age complimented his widely reknowned steely demeanor.

"We are _not_ together, because you are so stubborn and coldhearted. I tell you that all the time. The only thing between us is…" then Feathershine cut herself off. "Why are you being so cold? I stole in here to spend time with you, you know that. There isn't really a crisis with the furblogs near Dolanaar."

"High Priestess Tyrande forced you to watch over the young adventurers in Teldrassil, did she? You poor woman." But he was smiling.

"If one more person asks me to cast a stamina buff on the enormous Ancient Protector 'because it's so blue and shiny' I swear to the goddess an entire generation of Kaldorei will be lost!"

Shadowstep laughed at her.

"And what about you?" she continued, "I thought we were past this little argument of ours. Didn't you get my letter of reconciliation?"

"What letter?"

That was when Priestess Feathershine realized her mistake.

"Then… you were not the one who sent me this strange necklace?" Priestess Feathershine carefully pulled on the chain she had about her neck. Shadowstep smiled as he watched her try to fish the heavy trinket out from where it had sunk into her bosom.

"Always, you need me to help you with these things," he smiled, and had the bauble retrieved and a kiss stolen before Feathershine could react. She blushed.

"What's this?" He stared at the darkly glowing trinket at the end of the chain. Gold rings encased a globe of dark swirling magic. At intervals, green energy burst out. "It looks to be consumed by fel energy. Why on Azeroth would you wear such a thing?"

"Because I thought it was from you." Shadowstep smiled at Feathershine's endearing response and leaned in for another kiss that she gladly gave. Then, she said, "I'm afraid my little love letter to you was misdelivered." Priestess Feathershine pursed her round lips.

Shadowstep admired the necklace for a bit longer then brusquely snatched it from about Feathershine's neck.

"We have a real problem then. Someone very dangerous got your love letter meant for me… Maybe they thought it was truly for them and sent this gift in response. I'll have to get rid of this."

"This is all your fault! I told you turning that spy from Silithus was a bad idea! Some disgusting cultist got my personal letter to you. Who knows how many of our other letters got misdelivered!"

"It was a worthwhile risk to take, since Evenstar is able to get us more information from Silithus. That _is_ what you wanted, wasn't it? To know more about your precious Onyxbane and Opalbane? I still can't believe you made me do your dirty work when I'm already doing my own investigations."

"How dare you! You know very well that I couldn't search for the information myself. High Priestess Tyrande is already punishing me severely, after the fiasco with Opalbane and Willypearl in Stormwind, and I can't afford another mark against me. I'll end up losing my title. I could lose all my novices!"

Priestess Feathershine pushed out of Shadowstep's lap and made for the door of his office.

"Where are you going? We just got started."

"If you want me, and you are truly tired of questioning my methods, or mocking the way we priestesses do things, then you will find me. You will sneak up on me like you always do, and expect me to just fall into your arms like I have been foolishly doing since the day I turned down your wreathe. Why have I never been able to say no to you?" she threw her hands up over her head in exasperation.

"Oh, you've said no to me, many, many times. That is exactly why we are _not_ together now."

Priestess Feathershine paused at the door, her beautiful blue robes swished at her feet. "Do you dare blame that little problem you have on me? I certainly don't have a problem finishing a carnal act, and a woman gets bored waiting for a sorry beau to finish an even sorrier attempt at lovemaking."

"I don't see you sleeping with anyone else! And that's supposed to be a secret between us, Feathershine!"

Feathershine raised an imperial eyebrow at Shadowstep. "You are a filthy liar, a cutthroat, and a stubborn, arrogant ass. Nor do I like the way you use people to satisfy your own ends. I don't know why I put up with you."

Shadowstep coolly leaned back in his chair and propped his boots up on the messy table before him.

"It's because I'm a real man, unlike the pathetic boys who are always making eyes you when they visit the Temple of Elune. I know what I'm doing, and I know you. Though, I don't understand your obsession with those two orphan whelps you saved. However, I think your decision not to sleep with that meathead Onyxbane was sound."

Feathershine raised both eyebrows at him this time. "How do you know this?"

"The woman you are so angry at me for using, the clever Wisthera, was desperate to give me any kind of information that would save me from ruining her. When she reported back to me after your trip to Silithus to save Opalbane, she knew that she failed her mission and did whatever she could to avoid punishment. The result is that I also know several embarrassing things about you that are supposed to be secrets. Heh! And you frown at my methods."

"Are you threatening me? After all we've been through together, you would tell all of Darnassus about Onyxbane and I, just to keep your secrets?"

Priestess Feathershine cringed as she recalled the embarrassing moment between the perverted Onyxbane and herself on the ship from Darnassus to Menethil Harbor nearly a month ago. Clearly, Priestess Feathershine had not made enough of an effort to emphasize to the young man that she loved him like a son. After failing to romance the human mage Willypearl and the rogue Wisthera, the over eager Onyxbane insisted on further making an ass of himself by coming on to Priestess Feathershine.

"We are through, Shadowstep!"

Shadowstep only shrugged and smirked as he watched Priestess Feathershine leave. As soon as the door was closed though, he leapt to his feet.

"You'd think that, after a hundred years, some Night Elf would come up for a remedy for that embarrassing little problem of mine. Feathershine is so angry with me, I'm sure the Temple of Elune will be buzzing about it by next morning! If she outs me, though, I'll be forced to reveal her secrets." then, he began to pace. "But before that, there are our many lost lovenotes to consider…Why, oh why can't I keep my hands off that infuriating woman?" Master Rogue Shadowstep groaned.


	4. He sees you when you're stealthing

**The Romancer Greatfather Winter**

Episode Four:

"Come in." Opalbane said, but didn't bother looking away from the window. Her gaze was fixed on the cheerful orphans running about in Cathedral Square a few stories below her. They screamed with delight as they played tag. Some of the kids had been fighting or teasing each other and were now crying. However, unlike her, the little boys and girls had someone to run to, the Matron who held them tight when their world seemed near an end. Opalbane felt terrible watching them share a love that she did not know, but found it hard to look away.

"Priestess Opalbane, are we glum again today?"

"I'd hardly call it 'glum', Priest Benactus. It's like a disease that drags at my soul, pulls at the corners of my eyes, my mouth… it is impossible for me to live with the only life I've ever known stolen from me. Do you know what that is like, Benactus?"

Priest Benactus sighed heavily. The enchanting Night Elf priestess was always like this, after Silithus and well before. When he first met her some months ago, the tragic sadness was almost beautiful. But now, the reality of Opalbane's pale beauty clashed heavily with her dark words and thoughts, and the result was jarring and well… rather pathetic.

"It is Winter's Veil, Opalbane—"

"Ah yes! Another day for me to dread."

"I only meant that it is a time for celebration, to consider your blessings."

"My blessings are but few—"

"Woman!" Priest Benactus lost his temper, and had to clear his throat to calm himself.

This caused Opalbane to turn from the window, surprise on her melancholy face.

"Your insistence that the world is ever on your shoulders is tiring, isn't it? Don't you get exhausted by being so sad all the time?"

Opalbane played with her long white braid thoughtfully and lowered her eyes. "I miss Zar'teaus."

"Ah yes, the old god. You know, I don't think it's fair for you to consider him an ex lover… he wasn't even your race."

"Female Night Elves date men and dwarves all the time, Benactus!" Opalbane pleaded.

"But not decrepit, near-disembodied entities! My dear, surely lines must be drawn."

"All my life, all I knew was Zar'teaus. It was but a word when I was a girl, but then it grew… he became an idea, then a voice. And always, he spoke to me, saying _Come to me Opalbane. Come and worship Zar'teaus. Zarteaus is an Old God. Zar'teaus is powerful. Zar'teaus deserves to be worshipped._" Opalbane's glowing white eyes muted, her expression became distant. Then she said, "Zarteaus deserves to be loved." It came out sounding like a sacrilegious hymn, something she'd repeated many times before the cultists in Silithus.

Priest Benactus entered the room and stood by the bed. He knew that Opalbane was weak and could not get up from the bed to be near him.

"Priestess Opalbane, those may sound like pretty words, but they mean little. What did they do for you, except cause you to come into conflict with the courts of Stormwind? And now, you are here, at the Cathedral of Light, hardly living… all that ordeal made you sick. Can't you see that?"

Opalbane nodded.

"You have no parents. They were murdered in Felwood. You have no family. Priestess Feathershine thinks only of herself, and the rogue Wisthera has taken your brother from you. Where is the human mage Willypearl? She is with a new family, a powerful family that does not need you near their notoriety. You have absolutely no one but the shadow priests here in the Cathedral of Light, and even among those, there are very few." Like any shadowpriest, Benactus did not seek to soothe others with pandering or sweet words. The shadow was the truth behind the light, and why should penitents be spared the cold truth if they needed to face it eventually?

"Among those…" Opalbane surmised, "I have only you."

Priest Benactus nodded. "I am your only hope. I am the only one who knows how to draw the demonic rune that heals you," he gestured under Opalbane's bed where the cobalt chalk-drawn rune glowed and hummed. "I am the one who has the authority to use these dangerous mana draining candles. He nodded at the tiny blue candles lit all around the dark room. There is no door to recovery except through me. Do you accept this?"

Opalbane managed a weak "Yes."

"Good then. I've come to tell you that you will be alone tonight."

"Of course, I would be alone tonight of all nights."

"Unfortunately, that is the way of things. The other priests have left to be with their families and friends tonight, and I have things to attend to as well. Will you manage alone?"

"I always have." Opalbane sounded mournful.

"Opalbane," Priest Benactus put a hand on the thin Night Elf's shoulder and handed her a package. "There is hope for you yet. This came for you in the mail." Opalbane stared at the paper brown envelope in disbelief. Who would think of her? "Also, there is something more I would say about Zar'teaus. Do not think of this as your first Winter's Veil without him. That was not a romantic bond you see. I've… studied these things. You are more like a worshipper without her god, lost the way Tyrande might be if Elune were to part—"

"Don't say such a horrible thing!" Opalbane hid her face in her hands. Which was worse, the idea of losing Zar'teaus in such a final way, or the goddess Elune herself leaving all her children on Azeroth? That was when Opalbane realized that Zar'teaus had the same presence in her heart as Elune.

"If you miss him in that way… you will see how powerful you truly are. You have the strength of a high priestess within you. Did you know that?"

Opalbane flinched. Just whose side was Priest Benactus on?

"Think of how powerful you could be if you stopped struggling and simply embraced your fate. You were meant for so much more than doing petty favors for Elune, or the Light. Why not take control of your destiny… master those forces that claw at you. Please, take this lonely time and think. Goodnight."

With that, Priest Benactus turned to leave. Just before the door, he withdrew a large bottle of rum from his long robes and placed it on the table. "I know that this is forbidden, but… happy Winter's Veil." He said and smiled. Opalbane eyed the bottle hungrily and listened as he pulled the heavy door to her room shut and slid the deadbolt into place from outside. Perhaps it was meant to be kind, but Opalbane knew she had to resist the sweet contents of the dark bottle Benactus left. Drink was the one thing that gave her the courage to run to Silithus when it seemed her world was falling apart three months ago. Since then, all her friends and family insisted she had a drinking problem. But even these people had abandoned her.

"Power… I only felt safe in the embrace of the Twilight Cultists, and I was only strong when I knew Zar'teaus would be with me." Opalbane glanced at the window as she opened the package Priest Benactus left her. "No matter what, I cannot walk this world by myself. If the cultists are all I have left… would it be so horrible to return to Silithus, when no one here cares for me?"

Then Opalbane read the letter:

_Dearest Friend,_

_Thanks so much for the hat! I love it! I'm so sorry I didn't have time to meet with you or talk, but getting ready for this wedding is so tiring! Elec's family is also driving me crazy. But, enough of that honey. How are you? Say hi to everyone for me this Winter's Veil. I made a cloak for you in exchange for the gift and the beautiful letter you sent. Please know that I could never hate you. I forgive you for attacking us in Silithus. You weren't yourself then, and I understand that. I'm just glad that you're safe now._

_Since it's in style these days, I won't sign my name, but I'm sure you know who this is._

_Happy Holidays!_

"Wow, I have soo many friends, it's going to be hard narrowing down just who would be so nice to me this Winter's Veil." Opalbane raised her eyebrows, and forced the cheeriest sarcastic voice she could fake. Of course it was Willypearl, and of course Opalbane had been a complete failure as a friend, yet again. She hadn't sent the girl a thing… but it must have been a certain overbearing priestess in Darnassus who did. Priestess Feathershine always meddled in Opalbane's life. Three months before, Priestess Feathershine admonished Opalbane for studying the shadow. Priestess Feathershine felt it was a disgrace for a priestess of Elune and forbade Opalbane from going to Stormwind to meet Benactus and become a shadowpriestess. After, Priestess Feathershine lead an expedition halfway across the world to retrieve her from Silithus. Now, Opalbane wasn't even good enough for her own friends, and Priestess Feathershine was doing her favors.

Perhaps, Opalbane should not have taken it all so seriously. That Priestess Feathershine remembered Willypearl when Opalbane herself had not wasn't so terrible, and hardly demanded a dramatic reaction. But, Opalbane gazed at the honey bottle of rum an arm's reach away, and thought that it would be just the thing to take the edge off her problems.

"Just one little drink… and then I'll put it back." Opalbane said, her hands shaking as she forced the bottle open and tossed her head back.

Opalbane floated in and out of coherence, but at some point, she found a stylus in her hand and a half-finished letter. It was addressed to Priestess Feathershine, and all it needed was a good ending.

…_and you're so self-centered and self-righteous, you think all of Azeroth condones your actions. But do you know what I think? I think you're disgusting. The way you carry on teasing men… How do I know you didn't tempt my brother all those years ago? I don't think he made an ass out of himself courting you on the ship for nothing. You stay away from him, you stay away from me, you stay away from all of us, and stop meddling in my life! I hate you, Feathershine… don't tell me where I can go to recover from Silithus, or what kind of priestess I can be, or what kind of god I can worship. Don't even reply to this letter!_

_Don't even--_

Opalbane had to take another swig to get out the rest.

_Don't even pray for me. Tell Elune I can take care of myself!_

_Opalbane_

Crying, Opalbane sealed the letter and brought the bottle to her lips again.

Outside, in Cathedral Square, Alessandre was startled to see a man crouch, inches from where he was hiding in a tree and pull out an ornate spyglass. Then, just like Alessandre had many times, the priest counted up two stories of the west wing of the Cathedral of Light, and then over four windows to Opalbane's room. The curtains were still open and the man observed Opalbane for a few moments.

_What a bastard, _Alessandre thought to himself as he watched the guy from where he was stealthed. Then, Alessandre took out his own spyglass and counted. He could see Opalbane very clearly, and she didn't look happy. But wasn't this Priest Benactus in charge of watching her...and just what was the priestess drinking... why would someone be so irresponsible as to tempt a delicate alcoholic?

"Yes, that's it," Priest Benactus muttered to himself and smiled, "Drink my girl. Wash them all away on this special night and by tomorrow your heart will be changed. You will have only me to guide you. And then you will ask, 'Where shall I go, Benactus?' And I will say, 'Come with me to Silithus and I can make you one of us again. And this time, since you will truly be willing and not just drunk, you can take the rites and it will be impossible to leave.'"

Then, Priest Benactus swathed his cloak about his shoulders and walked away.

Alessandre waited a few moments and then let out a low whistle. "She really hasn't got any friends, has she? Perhaps, if I act now I can help… but wouldn't Shadowstep be more pleased if I just sit back and take notes?"

That was quite the question indeed. Alessandre pulled his pipe out of his breast pocket and began to smoke it.

Of course, smoking while stealthed is a dead giveaway. And if for a kaldorei, smoking at all was a bad habit, a kaldorei rogue who smoked was worse.

"Ho ho ho there!" a merry voice called up to where Alessandre was hiding. Slowly, anxiously, Alessandre forced himself to look below.

"Greatfather Winter!" he exclaimed.

The jolly pudgy dwarf in the red suit waggled his finger at Alessandre. "Tsk tsk. Spying on naked priestesses are we? Someone is being _very_ naughty this year, and from what I know about you Alessandre, you've been a bad little boy for far to long. Perhaps the worst person in all of Azeroth."

Alessandre tried to convince himself that he was just seeing things, or that the stuff his pipe was filled with was not what the vendor in the Dwarven District told him it was.

But sure enough, Greatfather Winter sat comfortably atop his red nosed reindeer and a league of jolly gnomes in red and green outfits flanked him on either side. Not a tricksy goblin in sight.

"Oh yes, I'm talking to you sir. And you have hell to pay this year!" Greatfather Winter bellowed. Alessandre yelped in surprise and fell from his perch.


	5. Lovin' behind the temple

**The Romancer Greatfather Winter**

"And I hear that she's always with that man in the Cenarion Enclave." the pale blue Priestess of Elune smirked as she whispered to her friend.

"You don't say... so that old joke about men and the Emerald Dream _is_ true, isn't it--"

"Oh, it's not _his_ fault Symballine. She just can't keep her hands off of him. And all the rogues know it! You know how they gossip..." Priestess Feathershine knew the speaker as Priestess Goldthorn but she forced herself to avert her eyes. They couldn't be talking about _her_ could they?

"Ladies," Priestess Feathershine greeted both women as she passed them on the spiraling ramp to the lower level of the Temple of Elune.

"Good Morning, Priestess Feathershine," the younger priestesses almost sang. Priestess Feathershine didn't mind that kind of response from her novices. The cheerful reply was genuine. But these women were doing it out of habit, and the emotionless response strove to avoid suspicion.

Priestess Feathershine tried to remain calm and not scream at the women who so baldly discussed her personal life. But, as she descended into the Temple Garden below, she heard Priestess Goldthorn say, "And he's handsome to be sure. I have no idea why she would cheat on him with _that_."

"Isn't he also very young for her?" Priestess Symballine returned in another whisper.

Priestess Feathershine balked. Just how old did they think she was? She and Master Rogue Shadowstep were the same age.

"Unless that boar-headed prick told lies about my age along with spreading that incident with Onxybane to the whole of Darnassus!" Priestess Feathershine said and swore as she neared the moonwell in the middle of the garden.

The main chamber of the Temple of Elune was a cylindrical building with wide ramps that wound up its sides. The ground floor was a beautiful moonlit garden and at the center of that, a glittering turquoise moonwell floated silently at the feet of a gigantic statue of the goddess Elune. Priestess Feathershine suspected that the many concentric circles--the entwining ramps, the green ring of garden, the round moonwell, the round base of Elune's statue, and finally the round libation bowl the statue held proudly over its head--implied infinity and a sense of eternity and about the moon goddess, or perhaps the completeness of nature. Feathershine then checked over both of her shoulders as she knelt by the moonwell and opened her letter from Opalbane, her foster daughter. Gossiping priestesses milled all about the Temple Garden. Priestess Feathershine also mused that the constant presence of whispering priestesses in the temple was a profound symbol as well: the rumor mill was almost as sacred as Elune herself, and nothing could thwart a nosy priestess who was convinced she was on the side of right.

"If I discover that Shadowstep has betrayed me... every sunken cavern and lofty bough of the Cenarion Enclave will be buzzing with all the dirt I have on him!"

The moonwell, at least, survived as a quiet place to reflect and Priestess Feathershine knew she could read her foster daughter's letter there in peace. But Priestess Feathershine read and reread the letter, and finally shook with rage and tore it apart.

"He told! He told! Even Stormwind knows? How can Stormwind know what I did with Onyxbane... well, nothing happened, but my name is already ruined there. The Archmage must be laughing at me now. And if Stormwind knows, then so does Ironforge, and Gnomeregan... High Priestess Tyrande will have my head!"

_Psst!_

Feathershine hastily stuffed the crumpled pieces of letter into shirt. She knew who it was.

"Do not dare sneak up on me now... Oh, how I _hate_ you Shadowstep! All of Azeroth knows about me."

_How, I didn't say anything. Have you told about me?_ he whispered.

Priestess Feathershine knew better than to turn around. She would only alert attention to herself, and Shadowstep was an expert at sneaking about. People would think that she was crazy before they dared suspect a rogue in the room.

"No," Feathershine whispered back, "But there are many ladies staring at me now. I'm sure they'd love to know." 

_Don't you even dare--_

"I have an announcement to make!" Priestess Feathershine called to the women in the room. Everyone except for the stolid Sentinels looked up.

_Feathershine, don't you say anything, or I'll sneak up on you so fast--_

"Gather around, don't be shy. That's it move in closer. Let's not leave a space between the wall of bodies." Priestess Feathershine smiled. She imagined Shadowstep's red angry face as he was forced to back away from the women who might walk right through him and force the rogue to decloak.

"Now, listen closely ladies. I am about to reveal a grand secret about someone you all know. And he's an uptight bastard. In fact, I'm sure you already know whom I'm referring to, since you already know that Master Rogue Shadowstep has been my secret love for almost a century--"

Delighted gasps rose up from everyone around her. That made Priestesss Feathershine hesitate.

_You see, I told you that I didn't say anything to them. Stop this nonsense right now! We have something important to do. _Feathershine shivered. Shadowstep had stealthed in very close to her, instead of sneaking away like she supposed. Unfortunately, she did not know rogues as well as she thought.

"Ah... I see you didn't know that already." Priestess Feathershine fretted before the crowd.

"No wonder you are always getting assigned to work with Master Shadowstep!" one priestess jealously retorted.

"Tyrande always said you were best with the rogues... now we know better." Someone else said.

"Why on Azeroth haven't you married him yet? Doesn't he think you are worthy of a Wreathe Day at least?"

"He does so think I'm Wreathe-worthy. He loves me, and I care for him!" Priestess Feathershine blushed deeply. "He finds me very desirable... and I'm surprised at some of you, speaking about me like I'm some old cow."

"Just _who_ are you accusing?" Priestess Symballine asked. Feathershine recognized the blue-skinned priestess and her friend Goldthorn standing very near to her.

"Weren't you just speaking about me?" Priestess Feathershine flared.

Symballine leaned in and whispered to her. "No, Feathershine. We all here adore you. We were speaking of the High Priestess." She should have known. There were more than enough rumors in Azeroth about Tyrande and Malfurion.

Feathershine's rose-colored hands flew up over her mouth.

_I told you. I could never betray you, love. But now that I know you love me..._

"Shut up, Shadowstep. And please... get me out of this." she whispered back.

_If you were one of my agents, I'd vanish out of here and leave you to roast. _ Priestess Feathershine could not see, but felt his wily smirk.

Before Priestess Feathershine could protest further, Shadowstep dropped his stealth and kissed her.

Gasps rose up from the crowd all around, but this only encouraged Shadowstep who indulged and dipped Priestess Feathershine low as if they were dancing at a ball in Stormwind Keep.

That was when the clapping began.

"Ladies," Shadowstep said in his rich voice. He swept his hat from his head and bowed. Priestess Feathershine noticed then that he was wearing his hat and however embarrassed she was, she could not hide her girlish smile.

"You found the hat I gave--"

"I had Evenstar fetch a replica. I said that would make it even, and he actually believed me." he said triumphantly to the Priestess and grabbed her hand. The women gathered were so loud with their cheering and clapping that he could barely be heard.

"To my lady's credit," Shadowstep said aloud, "Priestess Feathershine has spurned my every attempt at claiming her, and there's nothing I've ever been able to do about it, except maybe to wear this dashing hat. Do you like it?"

The women laughed and chatted about how daring Shadowstep was and how adorable it was of him to surprise Feathershine at her place of work. Then they began to say that the hat was very handsome.

"They like the hat." Shadowstep turned to Feathershine. "And I'm wearing it for a reason. Shall we?" he said and smoothly gestured to the arched entrance to the temple.

"You said there was something important we needed to discuss--"

"It _is_ important priestess. But since you cloth wearers demand on doing everything so dramatically, I couldn't steal you away like I wanted. Now the whole world knows about us, since you were so happy to draw a crowd."

"Oh, get on with it!" Feathershine pulled Shadowstep along out of the throng of giddy priestesses.

"Where are you two going, Feathershine?" the many priestesses laughed and teased her.

"Behind the temple, of course. That _is_ our usual spot." Shadowstep laughed and waved his hat at them.

The ladies began to cheer and clap again, and laughed when Feathershine jerked Shadowstep through the entrance of the temple and out of sight.

_Later, behind the Temple of Elune in Darnassus..._

"I still don't understand your logic." Priestess Feathershine pursed her round lips as she drew her robes back on. Shadowstep swept his mussed hair back up into the usual flawless ponytail. He laughed and kissed her as she tried to dress.

"It's simple really. No one is going to come back here and look, mainly because I told them to. And besides, I made such a joke of our affair, no one will really believe us--"

"Oh, no. I think you are wrong, Shadowstep." Priestess Feathershine pushed her lover away at last and fastened her blue mooncloth robe in place. "All of Darnassus knows about us by now, and it's very possible that someone shadowmelded and peeked. Why in Azeroth did I listen to you and come back here anyway?" she groaned.

"Because, you knew that you weren't getting any of the information I got from Evenstar about our little mix up until I got something that _I_ wanted." Shadowstep, already dressed, leaned back on the massive temple wall and chuckled to himself. Not many people know that a large expanse of unused space exists behind the Temple of Elune. The cold ivy-covered stone is not the best place for a romantic jaunt, but it was just dangerous enough to excite a certain priestess with a moral code...

"And I'm lucky that you could finish the job this time. Now, on with it. How are we getting out of this mess?"

"It's simple really. But my information comes with a price."

Priestess Feathershine's bright green brows narrowed and she closed in on Shadowstep who looked very humble sitting in her shadow.

"Oh, I've paid a dear price already, by coming back here with you. I think we've finished with that for now."

Shadowstep laughed. "Oh no. That's just the beginning. I got lucky this time, I know all too well. If it wasn't for your bold behavior in the temple, it would have taken me weeks to warm up to you again... you knew that you owed me so it was a bit faster this time." Then, he stood too. "What I want is a guarantee on this hat, since I don't have it in writing."

"What?"

"The old god Zar' teaus got my letter from you, remember? I think I know what this hat is for, but I can't be sure without the letter, can I?"

Priestess Feathershine was saying that was absolute nonsense when her intentions were so clear a few moments ago, but Shadowstep wouldn't hear any of it.

"You won't be able to get out of this sticky situation, I won't tell you who has which of your letters or how they will react until you swear to me that you'll be mine whenever I wear this hat."

Priestess Feathershine raised a shining green eyebrow and scowled.

"It's fair, really. It's no more than what I already suspect you promised, except for this time I'll see it firsthand."

"Fine, I promise. Now, if you're done doing things the selfish and manipulative rogue way, can you tell me just how bad it is and what we need to do?"

Shadowstep smiled wide. "Absolutely nothing."

"WHAT?" Priestess Feathershine raged. "I did all that for nothing?"

"It was a nice time, wasn't it? Especially when I asked you to do that thing that I like, and you were more than happy--"

"What do you mean? Get back on the subject!"

Master Rogue Shadowstep sighed in feigned irritation. "Evenstar sent your letter to the old god Zar'teaus in Silithus, and he sent you that necklace. The letter they sent in turn was meant for Opalbane which could be dangerous, but it isn't really since Opalbane isn't actually here in Darnassus. I think I will let them assume she is though, since that works to our advantage. Furthermore, I have every rogue with legs in Darnassus keeping an eye on Evenstar."

"What of the necklace?" Priestess Feathershine challenged further.

"I have a druid in the Cenarion Enclave looking at the necklace. It's pretty, but harmless."

Priestess Feathershine paced a bit, reaching for anything that she could defy Shadowstep with. "But what of my letter... it was very intimate. Some disgusting old god in Silithus thinks that my Opalbane wants to have... some kind of sexual relationship with him!"

Shadowstep smiled wider. "That was quite a letter I missed then. Stop pacing, sweetheart!"

"Don't call me that!"

"Feathershine, there is absolutely nothing to worry about. It's probably no more than Opalbane has already said to Zar'teaus herself, so it won't do any harm."

"How can you say something like that? My Opalbane is _not_ like that."

"How can you be sure she definitely did not have those kinds of feelings for Zar'teaus?" Shadowstep picked up his new hat and dusted it off.

"I hate to admit it, but you do have a good point." Priestess Feathershine conceded.

"She sent me such an angry letter though, accusing me of... what was she talking about then?"

But that line of thought didn't get very far. Beyond being a very confusing situation, one obvious answer seemed to trump them all.

"Maybe we don't have the details, but I think it's safe to assume that Opalbane was simply drinking at the time. I could ask Alessandre to look into the letter trail, since he's already so close to her."

Priestess Feathershine was raving something about how the rogue Alessandre was working for her too when Shadowstep put his hat back on and a finger to her lips.

"Oh, have mercy! We just DID that!"

"My hat, your rules, and you just promised me..." he said and began to kiss her.

Feathershine would have complained more, but it had in fact been her idea, and not such a bad one at that.

"You always trick me," she pouted as he began to undress her again.

"It's my job." Master Rogue Shadowstep laughed.

_Later, in Stormwind..._

"Alright, take off the suit." Alessandre demanded of the dwarf after checking over his shoulder to see if any guards spooked at seeing him fall out of the tree.

"I don't think so laddy. You've been neglecting the spirit of Winter's Veil for far too long now. And that's a long time for a Night Elf like yourself."

"Look, if you think you know so much about me then you know I don't make idle threats. I'm a rogue so I can do things with daggers that a pudgy round oaf like you won't appreciate very much."

"Hey! That's no way to talk to Greatfather Winter!" A squeaky voiced little gnome piped up. Alessandre gave the jolly little short person a deadly look that made him fall silent.

"This is a nice act, but I'm thirsty and I'd rather be in a tavern for Winter's Veil--"

"I know about the murders, Alessandre."

Alessandre froze mid-step.

"Perhaps all those cutthroats deserved to die, but it was cruel, wasn't it? It's one thing to spread justice, but to hunt men--"

"How do you know all this about me?" Alessandre got very close to Greatfather Winter, and he placed a hand on the mithril rapier at his hip.

"I am Greatfather Winter Alessandre. Sharing with others is the meaning of this season. With cold settling over the land, we must work together to support each other, share our resources, our love. There is a young woman up there who is suffering a great deal. You've asked questions about her and watched her for weeks now, but you haven't done the one thing you were sent here to do. You are her bodyguard, and she is in a great deal of danger."

"I don't need you to tell me how to do my job--"

"Evil deeds catch up to us, Alessandre. They always do. I bring the change of season, and I can see the seasons to come. You will spiral into the darkness forever if you do not change your ways, and soon. Go to her, live the season and show some compassion to the poor child."

Alessandre did not know what to say.

"You want to be a good person, I can see that. But what is left of your kindness is burning out as you grow to value life less and less. I don't usually make such calls, but I am very worried about you especially, Alessandre. Please, heed the spirit of Winter's Veil this season. Do not break another heart."

Alessandre pulled a long drag on his pipe and wandered off a few steps, thinking. "Well, what if I don't--"

But Greatfather Winter, his red-nosed reindeer and the little gnomes were gone.

Alessandre looked from the naked patch of cobblestone street where the miracle had occured and counted up, a few stories and then some windows over to Opalbane's window.

"Maybe... Maybe I'm more thirsty than I am charitable." Alessandre said to himself, but even as he did, he wasn't sure if he could bear to be so cold any longer.


	6. Opal gets a stripper for Winter's Veil

**The Romancer Greatfather Winter**

Episode Six:

The Spirit of Winter's Veil moved Alessandre to extremes that he did not even think himself capable of. Near to midnight, and on unsteady feet, the gorgeous rogue found himself at the doorstep of a certain shadowpriestess.

He knocked over and over for ten minutes before Alessandre remembered that Opalbane could not answer her own door. And, besides being bedridden, the deadbolt was on the outside of her door, which Alessandre took a long time to notice.

The result of this was, when Alessandre entered Opalbane's room, she had been fully alerted to his presence and looked very annoyed.

"Who are you?" she demanded instantly.

Alessandre squinted his eyes at her and rolled his shoulders. His hands were weighted down by heavy casks of liquor.

"You're hot." He said dumbly and nearly fell over when he tried to set all the drinks down.

"You did not ansher my queshion." Opalbane said, and hiccupped.

"Haha. You're drunk!" Alessandre chuckled.

"Sho are you. Tell me why I shouldn't flay your brain into a thoushand tiny pieshes." Opalbane frowned.

Alessandre came into the room and closed the door behind him.

"My name is Alesshandre and I come in peace." Alessandre bowed and almost fell over again. "In the spirit of Winter's Veil I've come to share the bounty of Stormwind with you. I bring gifts of rum, sausages… and more rum."

"What?" Opalbane demanded suspiciously, but she couldn't help eyeing the large containers of liquor on the floor. They were not the standard bottle sized gifts you would bring to a friend's party. These were more keg-sized and meant to satisfy an entire tavern of thirsty patrons.

"Look. I am your bodyguard, so you can trust me. Priestess Feathershine shent me. And then there's my boss Shadowshte… Stadowshep… no… it's…" Alessandre swayed on his feet and slurred the words terribly.

"No, no, you've got it all wrong." Opalbane corrected him but her efforts were even more pathetic. "It's Spadow… Spadow…why is that so hard to say?"

Alessandre chuckled merrily and plopped down next to Opalbane on the bed. "You don't even have any chairsh!" he exclaimed.

Opalbane scooted away from the handsome stranger. "Get off my bed! I don't have a bodyguard you lying son of an orc. Priestess Feathershine would have told me about it first." Opalbane narrowed her eyes at Alessandre, though it wasn't clear if she was angry or just trying focus through her double vision.

"You did not get a letter about it because my employer wishes to remain anonymoush. He or _she_ knew you would reject my help outright if I told you who offered it. Good thing that I followed ordersh, too." Alessandre stretched out on the bed and smiled.

"You dolt!" Opalbane thundered. "You jusht told me who your employers are."

"Aaah! Dammit." Alessandre swore and flopped over. He laid his head in Opalbane's lap. "I'm not a very good liar when I'm like thish."

"I don't want you here—"

"Jush drink." Alessandre pushed the large cask of rum into Opalbane's hands.

"No, I'm not going to drink shomething you give me. I don't even know you." Opalbane objected but then took a long drink anyway.

Alessandre hefted the other cask of rum up from the floor and onto his lap. "Thish is good stuff. You know, I'm normally really good when I drink. But when I went to the tavern I felt sho bad about Greatfather Winter… and leaving you up here all alone for days. And then, I thought about how I had to come up here to save you, and actually saving shomeone is really out of my league… and I just stole this and I just stole this…" he stumbled along for a while until he realized that he was repeating himself, then said, "They were too busy to notice that I took theshe. I knew there wash no way I could be a hero while sober. And also, I figured that you wouldn't mind caushe you're an alcoholic already."

Opalbane's unhappy features lightened on hearing this. "It may be a bit inshulting, but true." She said, and laughed.

"But if anyone comes through that door, I got a rapier with hish name on it. I can fight drunk."

"And jusht who will you be fighting? For all I know, you could be a Twilight Cultist come to drink me silly and then drag me back to Silithus."

Alessandre got very quiet just then. He stood up and drew his swords. Opalbane flinched at the menacing look in his eyes and paused midsip.

"I'll prove it to you." Alessandre said, and lay his rapiers across the bedside table. Then he came right up to Opalbane, within inches of her face, and undid his pants.

Opalbane gasped, flushed with embarrassment and turned away.

"Oh, come on." Alessandre complained. "Shtop being a baby and just look at it, will you?"

Opalbane let herself look at where Alessandre was pointing. Just above his hip began a jagged scar. It was a nasty one, old and long. Who ever had done it came very close to unmaking him a man. The horrible scar could not have been made by any conventional weapon; it was too savagely done to have been made by a sharp blade. Alessandre watched Opalbane look, gave her all the time she wanted, and then slowly fastened his pants closed again. Then, Alessandre bent over.

Opalbane gasped. "It's a nice view, I musht admit, but I don't quite get what you're doing—"

Alessandre rolled up a leather pants leg, and took off his excellent boots. The scar was there too, carved deeply into his foot.

"They ripped me from there to here." Alessandre explained solemnly. "The Twilight Cultists did this to me when I was foolish enough to try saving someone I loved. That was after she was already long gone though. I was a nightsaber at the time, and stupid."

"You are a druid?"

"I _was_ a druid. I once had mana. But… I lost faith in that. I was once a part of the Cenarion Hold in Silithus. We were there to watch the gates of Ahn Qiraj, and the Silithid. But the Twilight Cultists harried us to no end. Finally, when she was taken, I could stand following orders no longer. I went after her eventhough the Archdruid ordered all of us to wait. This is what the Cultists did to me for playing a hero. But, the whole point of my undressing is to prove to you that I am an enemy of the cultists." Alessandre was speaking calmly now that he was being so serious. The effects of the rum were not able to come into his voice and trivialize this painful memory.

Opalbane frowned. "I'm so sorry." The effects of the rum were wearing off on her too. The tragedy itself was sobering.

"Of course you are." His voice was pained though he'd tried to make it sound detached, sarcastic. "It's a horrible thing to happen to anybody." Alessandre fixed his clothing and replaced his leather boot.

"A cultist… a shadow priest turned their powers on you, didn't they?" Opalbane suddenly asked.

Alessandre said nothing.

"I know how they think. This cultist knew that you had no chance against him, and could have killed you easily. But instead, he found it more satisfying to amuse himself and try to obliterate your manhood."

Alessandre straightened his clothing and was not forthcoming with any more information on the subject.

Opalbane insisted, "He left you alive for a reason. He knew that you were coming after someone that you loved, saw the youth and the hope in you, the passion, and tried to destroy it. He thought he succeeded and that is why you, a lone nightsaber in a camp of angry cultists, were allowed to live. You wouldn't really be living at all, just suffering, and each time you cared for someone else, you'd try to make love, but be unable to. Even now as I'm explaining it to you… eventhough I'm no longer one of them, I get the joke. In a cultist's mind, it _is_ rather amusing—"

"She did this to me!" Alessandre lost control of himself. "It was her. The Archdruid was right, and she was truly gone, but I didn't listen. I just had to be a hero and save her… she was the one who opened my leg with the searing shadow power, she was the one who laughed while I dragged myself through the sands, and back to Cenarion Hold. And then for what? To be punished by the Archdruid and stripped of my rank."

Alessandre looked like he was going mad. He yanked the heavy cask of rum away from Opal and downed more of it himself.

"Do you know that I wish she'd aimed better that day? I wish that she had castrated me, the way that she wanted to. And then, maybe that part of my mind that still wants women, that makes me say yes when I'm in the mood and desperate eventhough I loathe the act of love itself… if that part of me could be excised, I'd be a much happier man with nothing to tempt me."

That was when Opalbane realized this was only the second time in her whole life that she'd seen a man cry. The first was a month ago, when she'd almost killed her brother Onyxbane in Silithus. And this was the second, a man who'd tried to do the same as her brother had, only Alessandre failed to save the woman he loved.

"Come here." Opalbane said. Alessandre was so distraught he looked like he was ready to leave the room, but the once priestess of Elune insisted and he felt compelled to obey. Opalbane began to speak to Alessandre about the kindness of the goddess, the painful truth of the shadow which lie beyond the light, and how men were terrified to look at the darkness of their own souls but that the reflection was necessary if one was to find peace. Alessandre had taken up the rum again and started to drink. He wasn't listening. "If I could use my mana right now," Opalbane said, "I could read your mind and take your confession. But, I guess you'll just have to tell me what you've done so that I can find a suitable penance—"

"I'm not so broken," Alessandre said hurriedly and kissed her. "I don't need fixing, I have nothing to confess—"

"Yes you do, I can feel it—"

"I can show you," Alessandre pressed Opalbane against her pillows and tried fervently to silence her with kisses. "I'm very good, practically a legend… I was a pathetic youth, that's all. But I grew up, into a man. I changed my name, turned my life around. I swear to you that there is nothing for me to atone for."

_You are stealing from her, Alessandre. And, you are lying to her about the murders._

Alessandre tried to ignore the voice in his head but it came again.

_She has never been with a man, and you are taking advantage of her. You're going right back down the path of callousness laddy, and that is not in the spirit of Winter's Veil._

"You're in my head now too?" Alessandre stopped what he was doing and asked aloud, frustrated.

"Who are you talking to?" Opalbane looked surprised, but she was smiling.

Alessandre studied Opalbane's face and realized what he was doing. So far, he observed her to be a sad but enchanting woman. Right now, she was so giddy she looked like she was going to leap all over him.

"Geez woman! Why didn't you tell me that you were a virgin? And let me guess, that was your first kiss?"

Opalbane's pale skin blushed a bright rose color.

_Told you. Now stop fooling around and get back to being a bodyguard._

Alessandre sat up and buried his face in his hands.

"Why did you stop… do you have voices in your head?" Alessandre was surprised to hear someone ask this question so casually, but then he remembered just what kind of crazy shadowpriestess he was dealing with.

"Yes, and it's Greatfather Winter talking to me," Alessandre tested her further and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Oh, well that's not so bad. Better than an old god who wants to use you in order to strike up a following and keep his body from melting."

Alessandre balked at that statement. "You are a very strange girl."

Opalbane shrugged. "You're worse. You got yourself drunk so that you could stomach coming in here and saving me, and ontop of that, you used to be a druid, but now you're a rogue. I thought people couldn't change their classes?"

"You miss a manipulative old god as if he were an ex-lover, _and _you're an alcoholic shadowpriestess. And, furthermore, someone like me is supposed to save you?"

Alessandre was trying to figure out which one of them was worse off when Opalbane suddenly asked. "So… does that mean you can't kiss me, since you're my bodyguard?"

"I refuse to answer that question in my current state of mind." Alessandre grumbled and kicked his boots off. "I'm drunk and I'm hearing things, so I am going to take a little nap. You don't mind, do you?"

Opalbane considered her situation. She'd been alone in Stormwind for weeks, save Priest Benactus and she had to admit, he was more than likely a Twilight Cultist. If Greatfather Winter saw fit to send her a handsome man who had no choice but to stay by her side day and night… then she had been a very good girl indeed this year, and there was no way she was going to turn down that kind of gift.

"Oh, I don't mind," Opalbane nearly sang, but Alessandre was fast asleep.


	7. Willy is with Elec for a good reason?

**The Romancer Greatfather Winter:**

_Lots of people think that I, Greatfather Winter, have supernatural powers: that is, I can read people's minds, or that I'm omniscient or something. Well, let me tell you that hiding ontop of the Cathedral of Light, while mounted on a red nosed reindeer–that cannot fly by the way–and simultaneously balancing a Mind Control cap on my head is not the way I like to work. It's a pity that was the only way I could think of to keep Alessandre from spoiling Opalbane's Winter Veil present: by physically forcing him not to take advantage of her. Instead, she got the kind of kindness she needs, and I've succeeded in guilting Alessandre out of a pleasurable Winter's Veil in the tavern. That's what he gets for being such a Greench!_

_I like to act in more subtle ways, like switching double agent Evensong's letters around or convincing those druids that Alessandre knew how to get to the Gallina Winery so that he'd be intercepted just in time to change course and pass by a certain dress shop. And then, sometimes I'm very subtle and calculating, like when I had one of my gnomes open Wisthera's mail for weeks before Winter's Veil so that she'd get suspicious and start having it sent to Darkshore, near the ocean. All that to ensure that a certain letter was waterlogged enough so that she wouldn't be able to guess the sender easily. But, showing up in broad daylight in the middle of the Cathedral of Light? Not my style. I'm more of a manipulating events so that they look like coincidences or miracles type of guy. It's that inane fad that is forcing me to be more proactive this year, though. Just whose idea was it to start sending Winter's Veil presents without return addresses on them? It's forced me to come out in the open and unravel a complex and annoying case of misgifting. Now, I have to work extra hard to make sure that those on my Nice list get the gifts they deserve, and those on my Naughty list get what's coming to them._

_To be honest, I can't see you when your sleeping, and danged if I know when your awake, laddies! It's so cold in Winterspring, I barely get out of bed some days, so why in Azeroth would I want some evildoer's naughty deeds keeping me up at all hours of the day and night when I'm supposed to be warm and resting under the blankets? That time I saw Alessandre stealthed in the tree was sheer luck. In fact, I was on my way to the Dwarven District to hire a hunter to track that rogue for me. My gnomes tell me that hunters are pretty good at tracking all kinds of things. The truth is, I'm just your average guy, a bit on the immortal side with bulk like Ursius to keep me warm in Winterspring, but mostly just a normal dwarf like you or anyone else. When I have to do my job, I keep my ears open. I sit back in the taverns of Ironforge, or my gnomes go to Stormwind, hide in Gadgetzan, or pay some drunk orc in Orgrimmar to listen to all the rumors. That is how I know who's been naughty or nice at the end of the season._

_And did you also know how noisy Darnassus was this year? Grumblings at the Cenarion Enclave and among priestesses at the Temple of Elune wafted up the continent like no body's business! Though I tried to pay attention to all the other little heroic girls and boys, I kept hearing these names over and over: Shadowstep, Feathershine, Alessandre, Wisthera, Onyxbane, and Opalbane whom they called the cultist. I had my gnomes do a bit of investigation and they found out that all these Night Elves were in dire need of some guidance this season. A human mage, Willypearl, and an old god named Zar'teaus had gotten mixed up in their foolishness as well. The assassin, Alessandre, was especially in a lot of trouble. Did you know that he's a rogue as well as a druid? Did you also know that women are falling all over him and he doesn't even do anything to deserve it? And he mixes his lights with his darks and not one white sock of his has ever been ruined? Yeah, you heard me! And rogues have so much dark clothing too..._

_...But I'm getting off topic. My point is, someone had to bust Alessandre down a notch. Especially on the issue of women. During the holidays, I can always look forward to your pretty girl who sits in my lap and asks for presents now and again. But that's just in Ironforge, I can't be everywhere at once you know. So, I couldn't let something like this stand, because of that and... oh yeah, because it's my job._

_So, how did I sort out the snobby Priestess of Elune, the sneaky Master Rogue Shadowstep, the train wreck Opalbane, the wily con artist Wisthera, the semi pediphilic old god Zar'teaus, the human Willypearl with a Night Elf fetish, and that undeservedly dashing dichotomy of dysfunction and devlish charm Alessandre? This year, it was especially hard work keeping my list straight but I think I finally figured it all out. I'd love to tell you, but that's no fun is it? _

_Have a look for yourself:_

On the Eve of Winter's Veil, Knight Elec Pontier of the Silver Hand found a way to steal his fiancé away from his overbearing mother-in-law for a private moment. It was close to midnight and would be the first time they had any privacy in days, with the wedding preparations and family managing to keep the two so far apart at all times.

"Elec, honey, you haven't even touched your tea... is something wrong? Are you angry with me?" Willypearl asked. The human mage tucked the edge of her stylish bob behind her ear nervously.

"No, why would you think that darling?" Elec had taken off his gold plate after a hard day's work of patrolling Elwynn Forest and running errands for his own wedding. Though he'd settled into a simple finely made shirt and slacks for the evening, his confident posture gave the presence of a paladin: proudly mounted atop his trusty white charger with majestic gold plate griffons perched on his shoulders.

"I don't know... maybe it's your mother gettin' to me. She's always sayin' that I'm not good enough for you, honey. And I was startin' to think that maybe she's right. Bein' in this family is tough, it's just too much pressure. Maybe we shouldn't–"

"Willy! I'm not going to let you break this off. I care about you too much." Elec snatched his fiance's hands from around her teacup and held them fast. "I've fought for you since Westfall, and no one, not even my own family is going to make me let you go. Unless... unless you _are_ still in love with that Onyxbane? I thought we talked and settled that weeks ago when you got back from Silithus."

Willypearl panicked then. She tried to withdraw her hands from Elec, but he wouldn't let her go. Finally, the charming mage took a deep breath like she was going to confess something terrible and said, "Elec, there's something you should know–"

"Panties!" Lady Barillabine Pointier screamed and burst into the parlor just then.

"Mother! I told you that Willy and I were to be alone tonight!" Elec pleaded.

"Panties... lingerie... men's underwear... our name RUINED. RUUUUINNNNED!" Barillabine was screaming. "How could you, how could you dare to do this to us?"

"I didn't _do_ anything–" Willy defended herself.

Elec was about to argue the same when his mother tossed something red and holy–and not in the paladin way-- in his face. A few moments of angry scrutiny later and he realized what they were.

"Mother, where did you get these!" He demanded.

"In _her_ room! This despicable child, this slack jawed yokel has boxes of them, boxes! And they are in Stormwind too, right in the Trade District. I go shopping for Winter's Veil presents today, like I always do, and there are women everywhere screaming and fighting over this new merchandise. I ask the shopkeeper what the fuss is about, and do you know what she tells me?"

Willypearl cringed.

"That a woman named Willypearl made these for a male Night Elf she's in love with! Can you believe it? And everyone in the Silver Hand knows you two are engaged to be married. The paladins will never forgive this scandal!"

"Willy, is that true?" Elec let go of Willypearl's hands. He was a dashing knight in shining armor, even without the armor. He looked ready to forgive her, eager to sweep in and save her again if only she would give him just one reason why she was worth saving.

Willypearl sighed heavily. "It's true, but you've got it all wrong."

"No? Well then explain this! It's for that Obsidian fellow, isn't it?" The rotund Barillabine triumphantly whipped out another pair of the underwear–had she feared someone would try to destroy the lone copy of her evidence she'd brought?–and showed Elec the tag inside. The pink label was finely embroidered with the name _Willypearl_ in silken black thread.

"For the last time, his name is Onyxbane! And, what am I supposed to do? Let other people claim my good work?"

"You are not marrying my son! Come the Legion or high waters, I swear to the Light that you are not marrying my Elec! Guards! Where are the patrollers–"

But Elec didn't hear what his mother was saying. Heartbroken, his gaze was fixed on his precious Willypearl.

"Willy," he asked in a dejected low voice, "I thought you made those for me... you measured me and everything."

Barillabine stopped shouting at that point. Some guards began to push the door open, but she rested her bulk against it. "Son, what did you just say?"

Willypearl rolled her eyes at her mother in law. "If you're gonna insist on gettin' into things that ain't your business than I guess you deserve to be embarrassed for a moment, right Elec?"

Elec groaned and covered his face with his hands, ashamed.

"When I moved in here from that desolate ranch the Defias left me in Westfall, I brought everything I had with me, including some... dresses and such that I'd made back when I was confused about my feelings for your son. Of course, Elec saw the kinds of stuff I made and he wanted me to get rid of it. So I did."

"But the woman in the store said you made this despicable item to fit a..." Barillabine shuddered, "...a male Night Elf."

On the other side of the door, the family guard were pounding and shouting for Willypearl to come out. Barillabine was able to hold them back, but just barely.

"Yes... but that's only what I told the shopkeeper. No place I went wanted to buy the dresses off of me and I had to say something to convince her. I wasn't gonna just throw this stuff away either, cause I spent a donkeyload of money on the materials."

"Donkeyload?" Barillabine raised her eyebrow critically.

Willypearl ignored the insistent criticism of her Westfall accent and use of country slang. "I figured that I had to turn the whole set into something irresistible, you know, create a showstopper of sorts. Oh, and give it a theme."

"So that's what the project was for. Is that what you were trying to tell me, Willy?" Elec asked.

Willypearl nodded. "I was afraid you might take it the wrong way, but you see, I wanted to get rid of all that junk."

"What _are _you going on and on about child? I am going to let the guard in this door and they are going to drag you out in shackles if you don't start making sense!" Barillabine threatened.

"I made that underwear for your son! I came back here and figured that maybe men's underwear would go well with all the dresses I made, and could, you know, tempt a whole new group of patrons. No one makes anything like this for men. So, I told Elec I was working on a new project and stretched some fabric over him and..." Willypearl couldn't finish the rest. She met Elec's wistful smile with her own.

"What, are you telling me that... Elec! I'm surprised at you. Men of your order are supposed to wait for marriage. Don't tell me that this disgusting piece of clothing enticed you–"

"Mother!" Elec stood up then. "Do you see how torturing Willypearl finally pushed you off the deep end? You insist that she is not good enough for me. You even convinced yourself of it, and when you went to that store you believed what the shopkeeper told you, instead of coming to us first. If you had, then you wouldn't be prying into my sex life right now, which is none of your business by the way!" Elec had a deep, authoritative voice, but it flew up in pitch at the end of his tirade, as if in this embarrassing moment, he was reverting to similarly traumatic moments of his boyhood.

"So, I didn't tell Elec what it was for, exactly. But it didn't matter. When I came back with that underwear the shopkeeper eagerly bought all those old clothes from me. And my little fib about the extra large male Night Elf size really helped. Recently, she's been asking for more, so I've had to make those in addition to my wedding dress."

Barillabine stretched both arms out over the door, fiercely holding back the guards who had certainly eavesdropped at this point, whether or not she'd wanted them to. "Elec, you aren't even angry with her for lying to you? Doesn't this story have _some_ foundation? Aren't you afraid that she still has feelings for this Onyxbane? And if word ever got out in the Silver Hand–"

"Too late for that," Willypearl idly crunched on a cookie she was having with her tea. "Some of the wives and husbands of the paladins in the Silver Hand have been coming to me and asking for personal orders. I may even have to open my own shop."

Elec smiled. "Mother, I'm sorry to tell you this, but I think it makes up for all the meddling you've done in my past. And hopefully, it will scare you away from ever delving into my personal life again."

Willypearl sipped on her tea just then to keep from smiling in the woman's face.

"What is that, son?"

"Well, mother, I don't mind if they think that underwear was made for a Night Elf. In fact, let them think it. At some point, though, I'll just happen to tell someone the truth when they ask me about my new wife's recent fame in the tailoring market. When they ask if I'm jealous at all, I'll just say 'No. Not only did she measure _me_ for the showstopper, she left the very Night Elf who inspired the collection for me, because I _fit_ the showstopper."

Lady Barillabine considered that statement frantically for a moment and then blushed a cherry red. "No guards! No guards..." she whimpered pitifully, and the men behind the door went away snickering.

"Son... I could have lived without knowing that about you." Elec's mother frowned.

"Too late for that," Willypearl smirked again and took another bite of cookie.

"Willy, Mom," Elec said and drew the women he loved into a hug. "This season is about sharing what we have, sticking together during the cold season, in the spirit of Greatfather Winter. Let's put an end to this fighting right now, and be a family. I couldn't bear for us to be at odds during this season."

The two women who embraced Elec agreed. The mahogany grandfather clock in the corner began to chime away just then. It was midnight, and they'd settled things just in time.

The moment couldn't be more perfect.

Until Willy smirked again and said, "Mom, if it makes you feel any better, it _did_ go exactly the way Elec plans to tell it. So he won't even be lyingto all your paladin friends"

Barillabine was about to protest when Elec added, "And it will only aggrandize the family name, not tarnish it. Isn't that what you wanted out of my new wife?"

"Oh, how I hate both of you!" Barillabine bellowed and left.

When the door finally closed, Elec wrapped his arms around Willypearl and kissed her. "Happy Winter's Veil, darling."

"And to you too Elec." Willy smiled, and Elec kissed her again.

_Not shabby, I must say. Making a Greench of that shopkeeper was my idea and getting the word out so that the underwear would be an impossible secret to keep was pretty clever of my gnomes. I think I'll give them a bonus for this one. And, in the end, Willypearl and Elec settled the confusion over Onyxbane and that arrogant and meddlesome Lady Barillabine Pontier will get the humble and selfless daughter in law that she deserves. Next, I'll show you how I fixed that messy situation Alessandre put Onyxbane and Wisthera in. I was hoping that I could just stay in the background and let everything seem to fall in place, like magic... but desperate times call for desperate measures, don't they?_


	8. Burning Love Crusade

**The Romancer Greatfather Winter**

Episode Seven:

_Where have you been? Winter's Veil is nearly over and we're running out of time. How am I supposed to tell you the rest of the story with only a few moments left in the season? The expansion you say, what's that? Greatfather Winter has no idea what the Burning Crusade is, and honestly, I don't want to know… sounds like horrible stuff. A Blood Elf paladin you say, a Draenei shaman… no, I don't want to hear about all the time you spent with these strange people. You came here to hear my story, didn't you? Well, dammit be quiet for a second while I tell you how this all ends. And then, I promise you'll have plenty of time to get back to this crusade thing you keep going on about. Young people these days…_

_First off, I know the old god Zar'teaus to be perhaps the loneliest soul in Azeroth, even worse off than Opalbane. However, Zar'teaus is hardly someone…something--look I don't know how you refer to an old god-- but he's not a good guy at all, not by a long shot. And I don't mean this in the too charming for his own good kind of way. I mean in the evil villain overdue for his comeupings kind of way. Figuring out just how low to put Zar'teaus on my Naughty list was a challenge this year, but I think I got him a punishment that will set him right in the long run. I hope that it's enough:_

On the Eve of Winter's Veil, Adeiline walked triumphantly up to her master's windstone in Silithus and knocked. She had a letter in her hand.

Just like the last time, the clever Undead told the old god that he had a letter before she asked him for anything else, which ensured that Zar'teaus did all his recitations, took his fel capsules, and counted the rotting fingers on both her hands in record time. Then, with a final wave of her hand, Adeiline studied Zar'teaus whirling pupils and nodded, satisfied.

"Yes, you still have some vision in the lower left quadrant of your right eye. That's always good."

Zar'teaus was not convinced. "I lost more skin yesterday. I hope someone intends to replace it before I catch a chill. This really wouldn't be a problem at all if I just had my high priestess!"

"Now, now Zar'teaus. I believe you'll find this letter comforting in that respect." Adeiline droned on in her Gutterspeak accented Common. "Perhaps the shadowpriestess writes because she hopes to come back to you soon. Or maybe one of our agents in Darnassus, or Stormwind has finally contacted her like we've been requesting and she'll be on the first transport back here."

For grumpy people, those who are optimistic can be irritating. For a melting old god like Zar'teaus, a gangly Undead woman who had not one reason to smile but still managed it was more than exhausting.

"Give it here!" Zar'teaus snatched the letter from his servant, and began to read.

At first, it seemed like all the usual stuff. Opalbane wrote that she missed Zar'teaus, commented on the rainy weather in Darnassus. Then, she went on a very long tangent about how she had started her alchemy again, and went into detailed specifics about a certain unstable mana potion recipe she soon hoped to try. In short, it didn't really sound like the desperate and volatile Opalbane that he knew so well. And then, as if on cue with his suspicions, Zar'teaus noticed that the spaces between the lines of written text were far too big, and as he kept reading, he kept focusing on the white space more, until finally he found himself reading an entirely different letter. This was a letter within a letter, written in a kind of invisible ink, between the lines.

…_Clever, isn't it? One of my finest ruses yet, I'm proud to say. The necklace you sent was harmless, but the fel magic did something fairly interesting when combined with ink, just as the druids predicted. And I am currently using your own secret weapon against you. There will be no secret communication between yourself and the Priestess Opalbane. By now you're catching on, I hope, so we can get right down to business._

_You, my disembodied friend, have found yourself on the other side of a line that few men dare to cross. Those who do don't live for very long, or if they must live, they don't live such comfortable lives afterward. Sending spies into the heart of Darnassus, I don't mind. It's happened many times before in the past, and one like me learns to live with them. That is, they are either watched by my rogues, or turned. Such was the fate of your Evenstar. However, I do not take kindly to strangers--no matter how old and powerful, or how immortal and pathetic they are--making a pass at my woman. That's right, Priestess Feathershine belongs to me, and only me. I don't care what she says, or what anyone else says. I've been working on her for years, and no one… NO ONE ruins my plans, do you understand?_

_Consider yourself ruined Zar'teaus. Not only have you gone too far—and I've been watching you for years—you've tried to hurt the woman I love by attempting to destroy her foster daughter Opalbane. Never before have I had the perfect opportunity to declare war on you, but it seems that this Winter's Veil, you've made it easy for me. It matters little to me that you sent the love note to my Feathershine in error, or that hers went to you by mistake. In either case, you meant to hurt my love in the long run, and I cannot, and have never stood for that kind of meddling. _

_Normally, I'd keep Evenstar happy as one of my agents and give him no reason to reveal that he's betrayed you. But this is far messier than that, and I won't wait years and years for Evenstar to outgrow his usefulness while I plan my next delicate attack. Evenstar has been gotten rid of, and consider this fair warning that I have an inside man tracking down the rest of your sorry cult's agents elsewhere among the Alliance. And his contract assures me that these people will all be discovered and dead by month's end._

_Go ahead. I encourage you to sound the alarm. Overwhelm my people that you suspect, clog the streets of Stormwind and Ironforge with Twilight Cultists. If they think that gathering in large numbers will protect them, I encourage you to take the most drastic action you feel necessary. _

_But know this, whatever you do, I will do a hundred times better, and you will soon find that you are utterly hopeless against me and my agents. _

_With that said, enjoy your Winter's Veil. I promise you that it will be your last._

_Master Rogue Shadowstep of the Cenarion Enclave, Darnassus._

And, as if that weren't enough, Shadowstep added at the end,

_P.S. Obviously, the priestess you are looking for does not reside here in Darnassus. Though, it is comforting to learn that you clearly have no idea where she is. It will remain that way until I see fit._

The old god Zar'teaus held the letter in shaking, but melting hands. He held it up to the sallow yellow sunlight of Silithus and the paper crinkled and buckled, then finally tore apart as he trembled with rage.

"Master? Are you alright?" Adeiline asked, astonished.

But Zar'teaus didn't answer her. He looked to the north, to where he knew the letter had come from.

"I swear I will get out of here… with Opalbane or not… and his head will be the first to roll, that damnable Shadowstep!" Zar'teaus roared through his gray rotting jowls.

_Pretty good I think. It was the gnome's idea to leave that old Qiraji necklace out in the sand just outside the cultists' camp so that Adeiline would find it. A lot of people don't know that fel magic is not just for turning people into demons and cultists. It's also great for removing evil stains, or in this case, it turned ink invisible. Of course Zar'teaus would try to send Opalbane a vial of invisible ink so that they could keep talking. And… of course Shadowstep would figure it all out and trick Priestess Feathershine into sleeping with him for nothing. One of the lady gnomes in my group assured me that sometimes, a woman needs to feel like love is being given out of true kindness with no strings attached. It sure wasn't easy figuring out how to fix it so that the man she desired, Shadowstep, would give her just want she wanted. As for Zar'teaus and Shadowstep, the both of them deserve to be enemies, at long last. While one man is in for more than he can really handle, the other is about to learn what godlike wrath is really like. Think you know which one is which? Well, you're pretty smart then, because in my opinion, it could go either way._

_Okay, now I'll tell you how I fixed that perverted Onyxbane…_

_Hey! Where are you going? Outland? That place is out of my jurisdiction, I can't follow you there. Just how do you expect me to tell you the last part, then? I can't shout it through the Dark Portal, you know._

_Excuse me? What did you just tell me to do? Alright, you're going on my Naughty list too. Oh, and you too, I see you laughing back there. I swear, I've never met such rude people in my long immortal life. And no, I will not roll a Blood Elf and join you in Eversong Woods, nor am I going anywhere near Azuremyst Isle. Why, do you ask?_

_Because Greatfather Winter is factionless! How the heck do you think I'm able to do all this stuff! Hey, hey! Get back here!_

Author's note:

Okay, a bit of a corny ending to this second to last episode, but this turned out longer than I thought it would be. The following episode will be the last one, I promise. Oh, and thanks again for reading this sequel to The Romancer Onyxbane. The third in the series is called the Romancer Opalbane, and I will update it as soon as this one is finished next week.

In the meantime, enjoy the Expansion!


	9. Lists should be checked twice

**The Romancer Greatfather Winter**

Episode Nine:

Onxybane walked to the bed and lay down on his stomach as Wisthera watched. She was sitting in a chair along the far wall of their bedroom, and her bottom lip quivered. She'd been crying nonstop since dinner.

"Please, no more Onyx. I can't watch—"

"Watch me leave?" Onyxbane said as he crawled under the bed and reached around for what he wanted. After a few tense moments, the large blue Night Elf reemerged, dragging a long shining axe with him. It was the one thing in the world that Onyx loved more than himself, perhaps even the woman he'd given his wreathe to. When Onyxbane got his hands on his Arcanite Reaper, he meant business. This time when they quarreled, Wisthera had finally gone too far.

"You know what this means, right?" Onyxbane stood and swung the huge axe so that the long shaft rested on his right shoulder. Further up the metal shaft, menacing spikes ripped out of the blue leather handholds. The round blade itself had a laughing skull crafted on both sides, the last thing the enemy saw when his—or her—time was up.

"Please don't leave Onyx. It's not my fault."

"We've been arguing about that damn dress for days! How many times did I ask you to tell me what man sent it to you? How many times did I beg you to look into your heart, put the pride and arrogance aside and think… but after all we've been through, you think you're covering for some rogue aren't you? You're putting some imagined stranger in your past ahead of the man you're supposed to love."

"But I do love you Onyx. Honey, please, just put the axe down. Don't leave me."

There was another reason that Onyxbane went to get his axe. That was the one thing he couldn't leave behind. If he took it, there was no way he was coming back. He could make up his mind and be done with the lying cheat of a woman rogue forever.

_Oh, now you come back? You see what happens when you decide to play that silly Burning Crusade game and leave me here all by myself? The story goes on without you. And am I, Greatfather Winter, going to catch you up on what you missed? Absolutely not. Just watch…hush now, this is the best part, when I get him to walk out on the love of his life._

"No one comes to mind? Not one man at all?"

Wisthera buried her face in her hands. She'd gone over and over all her memories, and there was no one else… there had been only one man in her life after Alessandre, and he was beautiful in his polished blue plate, made terrible jokes, and managed to romance every available woman on an ocean voyage within a matter of weeks. In the end, he'd chosen her, or so she thought.

Wisthera picked up the crinkled letter, and tried to make sense of the signature for perhaps the last time. But she took too long. Onyxbane turned his back on her and walked out of their little home.

"Onyxbane… please!" Wisthera called out into the silent purple depths of Ashenvale. Her voice echoed on the wind.

_Hahah! That's what that lying cheat of a rogue gets! Oh, I forgot to tell you that Wisthera's on my naughty list too for this year. The both of them are finally getting what they deserve, for walking out on family members, and old friends, for scamming people, and breaking hearts. Maybe it's a few hours after midnight on the Eve of Winter's Veil, but better late than never, right? That's Alessandre's good, I'll admit it. I never thought he would go this far. The red underwear was just a warm up I think. This dress with the note attached was the main course._

Wisthera felt cold. She went back into the house. It was too hard to shut the door. She just couldn't close the door on Onyxbane, even though he'd already made up his mind and was gone.

Finally alone, Wisthera's mind began to race. Her old con artist instincts kicked in. There would be a way, somehow to get him back right? All she needed was proof, all she needed to do was convince him.

She went to the dinner table. The red underwear was still lying there, where she'd whipped it out yet again, accused Onyxbane, and their argument renewed today, then escalated. That was when he went in their bedroom and threatened to get The Reaper. But this time, he really did leave with it.

"It's because he doesn't trust me… but I trust me. I know I'm right…" she turned the illogical crimson lingerie over and over in her hands for a clue. "The tag… okay it's embroidered right? So Willypearl really did make this didn't she? But there's no guarantee she sent it right?" Wisthera felt like she was going crazy, too many voices in her head, all of them trying to shout the answer at her at once, which was right? "I can't think! No… the only other person who could send it is Alessandre… it's so obvious, but he didn't even send a mean letter with it. But the dress _does_ have a letter. And the letter sounds like what Alessandre would say… or does it? No… no he would never--" Then Wisthera knit her brow together, as if it pained her to finally admit, "He never liked me… he never really liked me at all. And he probably hates me… he would never declare his love to me..." Wisthera's hand shook as she was on the verge of it, her eyes went wild.

_What in the heck is she doing? Hey, gnomes, any of you know what's going on? It is taking her entirely too long to have a nervous break down, and we still have that Priest Benactus to cover—_

"Alessandre is smart, that is why King Magni Bronzebeard wanted him in the first place, right? And I hear he's a master forger… but why is there no letter?" Wisthera shrieked with frustration. "A master forger would create a letter to go with this, wouldn't he? It doesn't make any sense… _Willypearl_...W-I-L-Y-P-E-A-R…" Wisthera pressed the silken underwear to her forehead trying to think quickly. "That's only eight letters. That's not enough to forge something… and he doesn't know Willy, he'd have no way to make anything convincing. Alessandre sent the underwear!" Wisthera screamed and then cried. "Oh that sonofabitch!" she swore and stomped all through the house. "I'll kill him, I'll kill him dead!"

_Duh. I knew that already. Fizzlypop, stop nudging me. If you have something to say, just say it! You're ruining the moment._

_Err… Greatfather Winter sir, I have something really important to tell you._

_Yes?_

_Well, there's something you don't know. I think I might have ruined Winter's Veil this year…are you going to fire me?_

_What are you going on about?_

"Wait… that's no good. That's what got me into this mess in the first place." Wisthera thought aloud, and Greatfather Winter and his gnome Fizzlypop stopped talking over her.

_Hey, just who is narrating this?_

Shh!

Anyways, as I was saying, Wisthera finally felt she was getting somewhere. "The con behind the con is… there is no con." She pulled the black lace dress out of its box and held it up against her. "Alessandre didn't send both of these, only one. And, it has to be the underwear. He just doesn't… he'd never lower himself to seducing me, even in jest. I know… he hates me that much. The dress is my final clue." Wisthera, bold as ever, took off all her clothes and slipped the black dress on, uncaring that the door was wide open, no matter if there were orcs outside or not. The cold night didn't matter, the Horde didn't matter. Getting Onyxbane back mattered.

"It… why does it fit? A little while ago, it was too big on me, and now it fits perfectly?" she smoothed the near transparent dress over her hips. The dress itself could have been lingerie but elven clothing often doubles as both… I'm sure you know why by now.

Still don't get it? Okay, this is why:

"Onyxbane did this!"

Wisthera barely saw him. A flash of blue in the empty doorway, and then a glisten of the deathly blade. He had to duck low to enter, and even more frightening, knew exactly where the bedroom was. He grunted and forced her down, the flimsy dress forced up, and Wisthera was ready to scream "Uden!" to anyone within range… how did the troll sneak up on her so fast, where was her dagger?

"I love you. I love you," Onyxbane said over and over, and his plate clanked heavily as he cast it aside and it banged onto the wooden floor.

"Onyx?"

"You figured it out, thank the goddess. I thought that I would never be able to trust you again. I'm so glad I turned back at the last moment."

"This was some kind of test?" Wisthera had ceased to struggle. Her boyfriend was doing things that made her smile.

Onyxbane paused and caressed her cheek with his hand. "No. I really did leave just now. But… I came back."

_He heard everything? What does that matter, she's wrong isn't she, Fizzlypop? Isn't she… you told me you saw Alessandre mailing that dress._

_Ya, about that—_

"I measured you for the dress, and had it made… this is perhaps the worst moment to bring this up, but you're gaining weight Wisthera."

"I am not!" Wisthera tried to slap Onyxbane's back angrily, but her bare hand slammed into blue plate, and she whimpered.

"I didn't get the other spaulder off yet," Onyxbane apologized to her and kissed her hand.

"Alright, I'll admit it. My pride got in the way of my seeing the truth… about Alessandre being obsessed with me, and about my size. I didn't think you noticed?"

Onyxbane laughed and kissed his girlfriend. "Well, I can see that it fits. Okay, so I can't see the dress from where I am, but I'm covering it right? It feels like it fits." He said and Wisthera shook her head at him in playful admonishment.

_That doesn't even make any sense! Fizzlypop, explain why you are lying to Greatfather Winter!_

_Well, you see… remember when you sent me to Darnassus to switch the lovenotes on Evenstar? Well, there was this breathtaking priestess in the temple. I had no clue that it was Priestess Feathershine, and--_

_Don't tell me! _

_Shadowstep caught me flirting with her sir. I know you told me to watch out, but I didn't expect him to be stealthed right behind her. I saw him at the last minute… which is really creepy because I don't think Priestess Feathershine knows that Shadowstep pretty much stalks her wherever she goes._

_Well, since you're not dead, I'll assume that he turned you?_

_Err… yessir. He told me to foil your plans, as far as I could for this year, if I didn't want to end up at the bottom of Teldrassil in pieces. Oh, and also, he told me to give you this._

_What foolishness… it's just a folded up letter, it's harmless._

_Open it sir. Please._

Greatfather Winter opened the neatly folded note, it read:

_Dear Greatfather Winter,_

_You are on my list._

_Sincerely, _

_Master Rogue Shadowstep of the Cenarion Enclave, Darnassus._

The other gnomes waited in wide-doe-eyed horror as their boss read and reread the very short threat letter.

_Oh, these people have real problems. Did you see that? After what I heard about that crazy Shadowstep, Alessandre, Wisthera, Onyxbane, and Opalbane… after I tried my best to fix all of those elves this year, this is how it ends? I get a threat on my life! The nerve._

_What are you going to do, Greatfather Winter? Oh, and am I fired?_

_I don't know… but I have a whole year to figure it out, now don't I, Fizzlypop? And that is my answer to both your questions._

Fortunately, while Greatfather Winter and Fizzlypop were talking loudly and interrupting the story, Onyxbane and Wisthera were busy doing what people madly in love do best, so I didn't have to describe it. Suffice to say, when they finished, Wisthera managed a clear enough head to ask her boyfriend,

"Onyx, tell me one thing though. I was so thrown off by your letter because it just didn't sound like you right away. Why would you write it like that?"

"Because I've been practicing my writing. What? So it didn't sound romantic? I was so offended that you didn't know it was me, that maybe you thought I was an idiot or something… And it was even worse when you thought it was one of your many ex-boyfriends. Wasn't the fact that I said I knew who wrote the letter--eventhough you didn't--give you any clue?"

"Wow, I see why you didn't want to tell me. It would be pretty bad if I couldn't figure that out on my own. I can be very, very, VERY arrogant. I had no idea." Wisthera pouted.

"I'm glad you understand now. But I guess that if it really was _that_ bad of a love letter, so bad you took it as a threat…"

Wisthera drew a deep, tortured breath. "No, honey, it was actually pretty good. Did I say you were a bad writer? I didn't mean anything like that." she lied smoothly.

But Onyxbane knew better. "Okay, I'll just stick to journals then." He chuckled.

_Oh no you don't! Don't you take one more step towards that computer thingamabob. I have one last person on my naughty list, and come the Legion or high waters, you are going to see what happens. Unless… did Shadowstep tell you to mess this one up too, Fizzlypop?_

_Nope. Does that mean I'm not fired?_

_Stop asking me that. Okay, let's go there now and have a look:_

The morning after Winter's Veil, shadowpriest Benactus returned to the Cathedral of Light. He had some leftover roast duck under his arm, and some of his Grandmother's famous Westfall Stew in a sealed parcel under his other arm. A kindly novice priest saw him enter the priest dormitory and eagerly offered to take the things to his office. He thanked the young man and decided that the offer of help was an even better Winter's Veil Gift than all those family leftovers. Now, he could go directly to Opalbane's room and see how the latest full shadow priest convert to the Twilight Cultists was doing.

"Let's see, I made sure she remembered just how pathetic she is, I reminded her of the sentimental holiday season, and left her all alone with a bottle of rum. If I do say so myself, the timing couldn't be better. I can't wait until Silithus hears about how I got her back singlehandedly. I'm overdue for a promotion, and that's certain!" he thought gaily to himself as he nearly danced down the buzzing priestess' hallway. Normally male guests were forbidden in ladies' dorms, but Priest Benactus was the Dormkeeper and he was always the exception to the rule. Ladies giddy from the holidays greeted Benactus and he smiled back.

"I trust it was a good holiday for all?" he asked everyone happily and knocked on Opalbane's door.

There was no answer. _Good. _Priest Benactus thought. _She's still recovering from her horrible night. She'll leap into my arms when I open the door._

But then, Priest Benactus did open the door, and his eyes went wide.

A very large, naked male elf lay on Opalbane's bed. The wine-colored skin and rippling muscles were hard to miss, that was for sure. Huge casks of liquor were emptied and all over the floor. A string of half eaten sausages hung from the bedpost. And, in the split second that he remembered to breathe before yanking the door back shut, Benactus saw the tiny Opalbane, nestled under the covers, a smile on her face as she dozed softly.

"What's wrong, Priest Benactus?" One of the innocent novices asked the poor traumatized priest in the hallway.

"I… nothing." He said, and tried to pull himself back together. _Alright. One more look. I'm sure it's the eggnog getting to me… there is no large naked male elf, no evidence of a wild night… there is no way that Opalbane could have a party in her room, not the way that I left her._

Priest Benactus took a deep breath, and opened the door again. This time, there was no beautiful naked man, no oversized casks of liquor, and the stale appetizers… all gone.

"Opalbane? Might I have a word—"

Opalbane was still smiling. She snuggled deeper under the covers and yawned. "Priest Benactus… so good to see you. You know, I was thinking about your offer to go back to Silithus… no, that's not going to happen. I'll just recover here."

"But how—"

"A little divine inspiration. Wait, no, maybe it was seasonal? I'm not really sure which Greatfather Winter is, but I'm definitely going to be a good girl this year too." Opalbane never smiled, and the parting of her dark lips against her pale skin was more than creepy.

What else could Priest Benactus do? He bowed, regretfully, and left.

Back inside of Opalbane's room, Alessandre destealthed.

"Yes, I like this very much. Can we do it again sometime?"

"Absolutely not. I barely got those casks under the bed in time, not to mention the fact that I almost ruined my entire mission." Alessandre complained.

"The one where you romance me, and I abandon all my self-destructive tendencies? The one where I realize it's a wonderful life?"

Alessandre frowned as he got rapidly dressed. "You know, I don't remember putting out the manaburn candles last night." All around the room, the tiny blue wicks were extinguished.

"Of course not, you were passed out by then. I thought Shadowstep told you just how powerful a shadowpriestess I am? I can put out mere candles even while bedridden with my mana drained."

"That's impossible."

"As impossible as a rogue who is still a feral druid, with no mana?"

Alessandre flushed a dark purple and his mane of midnight blue hair fell over his face as he bent to fasten his boots.

"Should I feel violated right now? I might have been drunk, but I certainly remember that I went to bed fully clothed… what did you do to me?"

Opalbane smiled wider. "Nothing at all. I just watched."

"Just what did you make me do?" Alessandre's eyes went wide, and he started to get goosebumps.

Opalbane sighed heavily. "I controlled your mind, silly. I did what any sane alcoholic ex-cultist shadowpriestess would do on such a lonely night. I… fell into a drunken slumber before I could get too far." Then she frowned. Oddly, the return of her frown made Alessandre feel more comfortable than he ever was with her smiling like that.

"You have issues, you know that? And I feel sorry for your brother, growing up with you and your dark torturous mind."

Opalbane smiled. "I'm a good girl, Alessandre. I just do bad things."

_Now that's more like it. I'd hate for Shadowstep to ruin an ending like that, thank goodness. Well, that's Winter's Veil for you. Whatever happens between those two afterwards is out of my hands, though it will be interesting to see how it turns out this time next year._

_What was that? You're going to find out what happens? That's not fair. How come I won't see any of it for a whole year, but you'll know by next month? Who's pooktales?_

_Wait! Wait! Come back here…snow melting…season changing…powers fading… urge to play the Burning Crusade rising… rising… _

Ladies and Gentlemen, Greatfather Winter has left the building.

Author's Note:

This was the holiday short that turned into a fitting sequel, which surprised even me. Well, you can guess what The Romancer Opalbane, the third in the series will be about. I've been planning the first episode of that one for a while so the next update should be soon. Thanks for reading!


	10. hehe just for fun

**Greatfather Winter is Coming to Town**

A spoof of World of Warcraft Winter's Veil by pooktales

Alessandre keeps a look out,

While Opalbane cries,

He knows that when she drinks and pouts,

to Silithus she's going to fly.

Greatfather Winter is coming to town.

Willy's making a list,

She's checking it twice.

Gotta get rid of all the male Nelf lingerie if the inlaws are gonna be nice.

Greatfather Winter is coming to town.

Zar' teaus dreams about goodhood when he's sleeping,

Sends creepy baubles when he's awake,

Shadowstep's gonna have his arse whether he's bad or good,

Cause the old god sent a lovenote to Feathershine by mistake.

Ohhhh

Onyxbane better watch out,

I hope he doesn't cry,

Cause Wisthera's got a monster sized-ego,

And I'll tell you why,

Cause the fivesome in Thelsamar failed, and Alessandre's back in town.

But Greatfather Winter's got tricks for The Romancers all around.

Author's note:

Thanks for reading! Okay, so this doesn't rhyme so much but I couldn't resist.


	11. Next in the series

Order of current and forthcoming stories in The Romancer Series:

The Romancer Onyxbane

The Romancer Greatfather Winter

The Romancer Opalbane

The Romancer Shadowstep


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